


Your Extraction Mission Became Mine

by Callaeidae3



Series: Under the Radar [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e05 Bloodlines, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Post-Episode: s05e05 Bloodlines, Recovery, Suspense, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callaeidae3/pseuds/Callaeidae3
Summary: In an alternate ending of Season 5 Episode 5 (Bloodlines), Trugg revises Krolia's conditions on the deal. Taking Keith hostage until the code to unlock Renvieg's super-weapon is confirmed correct, Trugg only allows Krolia to take a ship. Once the code is confirmed, Trugg says she will release Keith.Keith is never released. Instead, he's taken captive and Trugg's second-in-command hands him over to Haggar for interrogation regarding Voltron and the Blades. Kolivan's assigned mission terminated, Krolia becomes involved in a new high-stakes extraction mission to retrieve her own son.(Written prior to my 'Under the Radar' series, intended as a stand-alone, but can be read as having followed the events of 'Under the Radar' & 'Off the Radar')





	1. Surrender or Die

Krolia freezes as she takes in the situation. Sentries lying dissembled all over the floor. Commander Trugg standing in the doorway with a satisfied grin. Soldiers behind her have blasters levelled at Krolia’s face.

And Keith, kneeling at Trugg’s feet, hunched forward with his hands bound behind his back.

“Surrender or die,” Trugg commands.

The mission’s screwed, Krolia decides. There’s no possible way to destroy the superweapon and get out of here in one piece. She exhales steadily, controlling her breathing. If only she’d looked over shoulder to check on Keith after he was tossed at the wall. She might have been able to prevent Trugg and her soldiers getting to him while he was still stunned.

Too late for battle reflections, now. She has to think. Standing up straight, Krolia lets the blade in her hand retract to its resting knife form.

“We can make a deal,” Krolia suggests, never taking her eyes of Trugg. She raises her hands, a gun in one and Keith’s knife – her knife – in the other in a show of surrender.

Keith’s face morphs into a storm of panic and fury. “What are you doing?”

“I left you once,” Krolia murmurs, “I’ll never leave you again.” Raising her voice, she shifts the talk back to Trugg. “Give us a ship and I’ll give you the code.”

Trugg grunts. “Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have a choice. I’m the only one who knows the access code.” Krolia narrows her eyes. “If you try to break in, the room will self-destruct. Once we’re airbourne, I’ll give you the code.”

Trugg’s teeth are bared. Krolia watches her process the information, her own mind racing as she considers her chances of taking Trugg and her party down and making a run for it with key. But it would only take a second for Trugg to eject the blade from the mechanism in her arm and hold it to Keith’s throat, in which time Krolia might only manage to take one more sentry out.

It seems like Trugg’s not the only one who doesn’t have a choice.

After a moment, Trugg presses her lips together thoughtfully, then raises a foot and kicks Keith square in the shoulders. Keith lets out a startled yelp and crumples sideways on the floor. Krolia doesn’t miss the fire in his glare.

“I’ll let this one live,” Trugg says, “and I’ll let you take a ship. But if you give us the wrong code, he dies in here with us, if I don’t kill him first. Give us the code and I’ll let him go.”

Krolia’s eyes narrow. If Trugg’s revising the deal then she’s probably thought of a way to double cross them as well. Krolia examines Trugg’s face carefully. The commander is not the least bit merciful. She might keep to her word about letting Keith go and letting him live but that doesn’t guarantee she won’t do some damage beforehand. If things go the way Krolia’s ideal turn out of things would go, then she could take the ship and swoop down to get him once he’s released. Of course, the probability of that working is highly unlikely.

Before she gives an answer, she looks to Keith for his final choice. Krolia’s gut twists to see the same look of a determined, about-to-sacrifice-himself expression she’s witnessed from fellow Blade members about to take on an extremely high risk mission. Inwardly she curses Kolivan for sending her son to her now, of all missions, of all possible times, when the stakes are so high. Keith’s skills in stealth, flight and fight appear to considerably good, so the fact that Kolivan sent him on a solo mission to extract her isn’t so much of a bother to her. It’s rather the circumstances in which the Blade leader decided to let them have a reunion that frustrates her.

She knows the stakes. And as Keith gives her a firm nod, silently telling her to accept Trugg’s terms of the deal, she feels her lip curl in an uncontainable terror that this might be the last time she ever sees him.

But then Keith sees her hesitate and starts pleading for her to just leave him. “Just go,” he begs. “Forget about me. I’m not worth it.”

Fire explodes in Krolia’s belly. He still hasn’t realised, has he? Would he still say those things if he knew the Blade now responsible for his fate was his mother? Krolia is sickened to realise with dread, yes. Yes, he would.

As Keith continues his begging, Krolia gets the hidden message he’s trying to convey. _Just go, and when you get to the ship, don’t – whatever you do – give her the code. The mission comes first. Forget about me. I’m not worth it._

Tired of his talking, Trugg quietly grabs a gun off the sentry standing next to her, points it at Keith’s bound right arm and pulls the trigger. Keith cries out, jerking on the floor in pain.

Krolia manages to keep her face straight. “You better hold to your end of the deal,” she says.

Trugg doesn’t move her arm and the barrel of the gun stays aimed at Keith’s back. “That’ll be up to you.”

The deal is made.

Krolia’s thoughts race through her head. She can’t give them the wrong code – the room will self-destruct, just as she said it would. But she can’t give them the right code, either – she knows what the super weapon is. If Keith’s still in the room when they unleash that creature, he’ll be torn to shreds with the rest of them.

To her relief, which Krolia’s scowl does a brilliant job of keeping from showing on her face, Trugg orders the Galra standing on her right to take Keith out to the ship. At least he won’t be mauled by the Renveig’s superweapon. Then again, will Trugg actually release him? Will the guy now dragging Keith to his feet and shoving him through the elevator doors with a gun to his head suspect something when Trugg’s communications go quiet? Will he take it out on Keith?

Stay focused.

Keith’s out of the immediate danger Trugg’s about to unleash upon herself. Krolia knows she’ll be well out of the way of it, too. Now there’s just the matter of retrieving Keith from Trugg’s ship without her own escape ship being blown to pieces.

Trugg keeps Krolia in the control room for a solid few minutes to allow her crewman to get their hostage to the ship. She then gestures to the sentries around her to step aside.

“You may go to your ship,” Trugg says quietly. “But I warn you. Keep your end of the deal, or this room won’t be the only thing meeting its destruction.”

Krolia’s gaze is fierce as she cautiously walks past the commander and her soldiers. She doesn’t relinquish her fire in her eyes until the elevator doors close.

 

Had it not been for the burning blast on his arm, Keith would’ve tried to escape. But the guy escorting him across the plains to the ship also has kept his gun pressed against the back of his neck and firm clawed hand on his shoulder the whole way. To add to that, his hands are bound and Krolia has his knife.

He’s still perplexed as to how on earth she was able to use it. The knife only responds to those who have awakened it. Is it possible she once wielded the same knife? But then at which point in time did she give it up, and why, and by what means did it end up with him on Planet Earth?

Keith can’t quite figure out if he’d heard her right, either. She said she’d left him once and that she’d never do it again. He’d never met the lady. Perhaps she’d been one of the masked Blades who came at him during the Trials? Or maybe she’d seen him around with Kolivan? But her words sounded more like a promise, her voice suddenly soft with remorse. It didn’t make sense.

Once inside the ship, the Galra escort pressing the gun to Keith’s neck pushes him down a couple of corridors and stops them in front of a closed door. Keith waits, expecting it to open automatically, but it doesn’t. The muzzle of the gun leaves his neck. Confused, he turns to look at Trugg’s soldier –

Keith catches a glimpse of the gun’s grip before the Galra soldier rams in into the side of his head. Black pain explodes in his temple and he drops to the ground, senseless.


	2. Your Extraction Mission Became Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really grateful for the amazingly positive reception this story is getting! Thank you to everyone who's left kudos and comments!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Krolia’s mind wheels as to how in the universe she’s going to get Keith back. She curses herself for abandoning him again. There wasn’t much of choice this second time either, but letting Keith be taken from her is enough to make herself hate herself ten times over.

He’s not in safe hands this time. 

Trugg never guaranteed his safety.

And Krolia – blast it, she’s a fool! – agreed to it.

The instant Trugg confirms the correct code, Krolia launches the ship out of the hangar. As predicted, the cannons mounted on top of the base tilt upwards in aim at her ship and lock on to her. She doesn’t have a chance to go after Keith now, she’s too busy evading the beams of energy shot at her. She sees Trugg’s fleet waiting on the plains below. That’s where she wants to go. Except she can’t just yet. She’s got to wait it out.

Knowing she only has to wait as long as it takes the creature to finish off Trugg and the rest of her soldiers in the room, Krolia dives and dips around the beams, ultimately pushing her ship for the planet’s exosphere. While she distances herself from where Keith’s being held, she hopes it’ll give her more time to anticipate and react to each shot. She can’t rescue Keith if she’s blown to pieces mid-air.

After an intense five minutes – she still marvels at her tendency to think in Earth time – the shots stop firing. Krolia knows it’s not because her ship’s out of range. The creature must be loose in the control room. She’s relieved Keith didn’t get left in there with them else she’d have had to think up another alternative way around the deal conditions.

The building doesn’t explode, of course. Krolia doubts she even has a couple of minutes before Trugg’s second-in-command realises she outsmarted them. Now that Trugg’s dead, or near to it, Krolia’s only chance of retrieving her son is by breaking him out of the Trugg’s main ship. Trugg won’t be answering communications anymore. They won’t be releasing Keith without Trugg’s command.

Krolia whips around, weaving her way back through the flaming shrapnel and wreakage floating in space from Trugg and Ladnok’s fight. She sends the ship careening back down into the planet’s atmosphere. She doesn’t slow her descent, but keeps her hands ready on the brakes for when she gets closer to impact. Her ship arcs down towards the plains. She sucks in a breath when she sees a glow of purple, instinctively preparing to make a barrel-roll. But it’s not the cannons.

Trugg’s fleet is lifting off. And Keith’s nowhere to be seen outside the ship.

Krolia is furious at herself for failing to think about that happening. Of course it’s not going to wait around. Trugg’s not in command anymore; she’s not the one giving orders. The Galra who took Keith is. There’s been a change of plans with the fleet.

The vessel may pack more density into its bulking shape than the skimmer she’s flying, but once its airborne, it sails upwards at an acceleration so fast Krolia can’t reach it in time. She sends her ship chasing after it, but its near-vertical ascent far outmatches the skimmer’s need to curve sits path back out to space. It takes her ten precious seconds to pull her ship back around to face skyward.

Once beyond the planet’s exosphere, she sees the weaponry retract. Krolia knows. _They’re going into hyperdrive._ Dread rises the surface of her skin like sweat. It had slipped her mind that Trugg wouldn’t have brought her entire crew to the base. That those she’d left behind would have a back-up plan.  

The vessel glows brighter, space seemingly swirling like rushing air alongside the ship’s flanks. Then it slips into hyperdrive, leaving nothing but empty space and floating shrapnel in Krolia’s path.

The vessel is gone.

Keith…is gone.

Krolia slams her palms down on the dashboard. She blinks back angry tears as she punches in memorised coordinates to Blade of Marmora headquarters, hating herself, just hating herself. The estimated flight time materialises on screen and Krolia’s throat tightens. A journey of six and a half hours. Just to report back to Base.

Those six and a half hours are extremely long ones. Krolia tries to remember with clarity her two-year old son’s face before she left him. So innocent, so _cute_ , so…unawares of the unforgiveable act she was about to commit. Keith’s father had promised her he’d keep their son safe. He’d told her that she had to stick to her part of the plan, that in returning to her undercover work in the Galra Empire she would be working to ensure Keith’s safety.

Krolia’s blood grew hot. This wasn’t part of the plan.

How long had it been since she’d seen him? Almost seventeen years? Her toddler son had grown into a young man and she hadn’t even been there for him. She’d left him for seventeen years with the only sign he’d had a mother being her luxite blade. It had been a rare treasure to part with, but her son was the rarest and most precious treasure in the universe and she’d left him, too.

Krolia only hope’s that she can get back to HQ in time, inform Kolivan of the situation and get back out there to retrieve Keith before something happens to him.

No, it’s too late for that. Before something _worse_ happens to him.

 

Keith wakes in darkness, his temple bruised. He goes to sit up, but with a tug of frustration discovers his hands are still bound. He slides back down on the floor.

He can’t tell how long it’s been. The blast wound on his arm burns, weeping. If not treated soon, he fears it may become infected. Not like the Galra care. He struggles to free himself, to no avail. The twine-like cord is bound tight around his wrists. The fibres are ridiculously tough. There’s no give. He lets out a hiss of annoyance. If he’d been a little quicker as to avoid getting thrown by that sentry, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He hopes Krolia had a better outcome than him.

At some point the Galra who escorted him to the ship opens the door. Keith hears the heavy footfalls stop outside the door and, while the guy sticks the key in the lock, he picks himself up off the floor into a crouch.

Light floods in from the hallway and Keith’s eyes hurt as they try to adjust, but he doesn’t delay. He launches himself at the Galra, but Trugg’s second-in-command only brings a forearm hard into Keith’s throat. With a strangled gasp, Keith collapses on the floor, jarring his shoulder.

The Galra soldier kicks him in the stomach. Keith curls in on himself, coughing.

“I thought we made a deal,” Keith gasps. “When’re you gonna let me go?”

“We’re not.”

Keith jerks against the bindings lashing his wrists together. “We had a deal!”

“And your partner did not adhere to the conditions. Trugg’s dead, thanks to your conniving plan.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He kicks Keith in the head.

Keith’s head snaps to the side, the bones in his neck clicking. Outside the room in the corridor behind the shut door, Keith hears a hand rap the door.

 “Commander,” some guard says. “We are estimated to arrive at the docking bay soon. Shall I give the orders to make preparations for landing?”

“No, I can make the orders. I will be at control promptly.”

Keith’s head reels from the blow of the Commander’s foot. He’s not sure if that’s blood he can taste in his mouth or just the metallic smell of the cupboard-sized room.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks as now-Commander swings the door shut behind him.

Keith hears the smirk in the Commander’s voice. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

When the guard comes back to collect him, Keith is too dizzy from the blow to his head to try attack again. The door is flung open. Three guards stand there this time. Keith knows he’s screwed.

One guy guards the door while the other two barge in and, with their hands locked around his arms in a vice-like grip, haul him to his feet. Vainly, Keith tries to resist, digging his heals into what little purchase the shoes of his Blade suit can get.

He’s dragged to the door, where Keith sees the third guard holding a bag for some reason. He struggles valiantly as he realises what it's for. The third guard upturns the small sack and brings it down over his head.

The inside of the sack is coated in some kind of pungent powder, acrid like sulphur. Panic fills him as he involuntarily breathes it in. Keith thrashes between the two guards, screams at them. Their grip is relentless. He can’t break free. He tries to twist his head to the side, to shake off the drug-laced sack, but the third guard holds the rim of the open end firmly down against his shoulders.

His thrashing grows weaker by the second, his breathing somehow shallow and heavier at the same times. His muscles grow weak and shaky, his head spinning. He coughs, desperately trying to expel the powder from his system, but it's too late for that. The drug takes effect frighteningly fast.

As he feels himself sag in the guards’ grip, the world tips upside down as he’s picked up and flung over who he guesses is the third guy’s shoulder. The hard armour covering the guard’s shoulder digs into his stomach, winding him. He takes a few more gasps of tangy air before his awareness clouds and leaves him.

 

“Where’s the boy?”

The second Krolia steps off the ship alone, Kolivan knows the mission didn’t go according to plan. Krolia appreciates the concern that the Blade leader lets show on his usually stoic face.

She has the duty of reporting what happened on the mission. Kolivan doesn’t appear surprised that she and Keith had to compromise the mission, but when he hears of Keith’s capture, his eyes darken.

“It’s a good thing you aren’t on that ship with him,” Kolivan says. He doesn’t continue, and Krolia feels the weight of the unasked question like a rock in her belly.

_Are we going to go after him?_

Krolia doesn’t speak, instead giving Kolivan the silence he needs to work through his thoughts. Kolivan’s a sensible leader. Losing a Blade is tough, but for the sake of keeping the organisation’s security secure…

It doesn’t matter whose son he is in respect of what happened – he’s gone. But Krolia knows Kolivan will also be thinking on broader terms. If they took Keith, it won’t be to keep him hostage. They could keep him as bait for the Blades, but he’ll be of other uses to them in the meantime. They’ll interrogate him. Torture him. Try to extract precious information from him that would jeopardise the operations of both Voltron and the Blades. There’s more at stake here than solely her son’s life.

Kolivan ponders silently for a quality fifteen minutes. Krolia waits as patiently as possible despite the itching in her hands to push the levels of a spacecraft into motion.

“I will join you on this extraction,” Kolivan announces. “This is a high-stakes mission in which we cannot afford failure. I will notify Ilun of our departure. Gather appropriate supplies and ready a ship. We will leave in half a varga.”

Krolia nods. Just before their paths diverge at the end of the hangar corrider, Kolivan pauses.

“He’s as impulsive as you,” Kolivan growls softly. His face remains impassive. “However,” he confesses quietly, “I’ve grown rather fond of the boy.”

It’s enough to tell Krolia that Kolivan’s just as determined to get Keith back as she is.


	3. Subsequent Mission

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says, breaking the silence of boredom. “Back at the Garrison, didn’t you say that Shiro was your hero?”

They’re waiting for everyone else to get back to the bridge, but Allura and Lotor seem to be deep in research in Haggar’s archives and Coran sent them a message a varga ago to say the calibrating of the Castle’s data was taking longer than expected. Tired after their adventures with Fun-sentry, Lance, Hunk and Pidge retired to the Castle ahead of them and have since been back two vargas.

Lance is lying on the floor, taking unusual interest in the Balmeran crystal hanging from the ceiling. He frowns at Hunks question and sits up. “Yeah, I did. Why?”

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “Past tense? What happened that made you replace _Shiro_ with Fun-sentry as your hero?”

Two contrasting memories flash in Lance’s mind: the awesome last few hours spent fooling around Galra HQ and Shiro raising his voice at him on the Castle bridge only a couple of days ago.

_I told you to stay out of it!_

If that loud frustration had come from Keith, Lance would’ve paid it no heed. But coming from Shiro… it takes on a whole different meaning.

Lance opens his mouth to ask Pidge and Hunk their opinions on the way Shiro’s been acting, when an alert blips on the screen above Coran’s control panel. He stands up abruptly. Pidge gets up from sitting cross-legged in her Green paladin seat and jogs down to Coran’s station. After typing a few things, she brings up the alert on screen.

“Someone’s hailing us,” she says, looking to Lance for the go-ahead.

Lance nods. “Allura’s not here but we’d better answer it. It might be urgent.”

Hunk and Lance join Pidge at Coran’s control panel as Pidge accepts the hail. It’s from an unknown ship, but the Castle identifies it as one of the Blades’. A video feed appears on screen.

It’s Kolivan. A masked Blade stands behind him.

Hunk and Pidge’s faces light up, but something doesn’t sit well with Lance. Keith has shut himself off from the team many times before, but he never keeps his mask up in video conferences with the Castle. Lance wonders if it’s because they just came back from a mission or are about to head out on one. Or maybe it’s not Keith at all.

“Hey, Kolivan,” Lance says, hesitating, then decides to go along with his uncertainty just in case. “Keith.”

“Lance.” Kolivan’s eyes shift left and right across the screen. “Where is the rest of the team?”

“Uh, we’re at Galra HQ. Lotor invited us and the others are still busy with stuff. Is something the matter?”

“We have an urgent matter that needs resolving promptly. If I may, I would ask for Voltron’s assistance.”

Lance suddenly looks wary, serious, concerned. “H….how urgent?”

“We need to move now. It is regarding Keith.”

Pidge lets out startled exclamation. “That’s not Keith behind you?”

Kolivan wastes no time spelling it out slowly. “No. Keith was sent on an extraction mission eleven vargas ago to retrieve a Blade operative stationed at a remote Empire research outpost. Approximately eight vargas ago he was taken prisoner by Commander Trugg’s fleet. The fleet went into hyperdrive shortly after and we did not manage to get a registration code for the vessel. He is assumed to be on that ship. We require your assistance locating the vessel, if you can spare the time, but we need to act fast. Keith may be transported onto a different vessel at any stage along prisoner shipping routes, and then shipped out to a number of possible prisons throughout Galra territory. If he’s transferred, locating him will prove an even greater challenge.”

“If we can spare the time?” Hunk exclaims. “We’ll _make_ time if we have to. There’s no way we’re letting Keith stay - !”

“You must understand there is more at stake than just your friend,” Kolivan interrupts. “If he is handed over to the druids, they may extract from him valuable information about the Blade of Marmora and even Voltron. We cannot allow such information into the wrong hands.”

“Keith is of high importance to us, Kolivan,” Lance says quietly, his gaze meeting Kolivan’s with steely fire. “Don’t underestimate how much he means to us. Regarding what you are saying, though – yes, I understand where you are coming from.” He turns to Pidge and Hunk, who are watching the exchange with worry etched in their faces. “You guys up for another team-bonding rescue mission?”

Pidge frowns. “Lance, we don’t have Voltron. The level of risk is completely different from when we saved Shiro.”

“We don’t have time for Voltron,” Lance retorts. He turns back to the screen. “Kolivan, we have three Lions who can assist you. Pidge’s Green Lion has cloaking. She could take you right up the ship. Red has a strong link with Keith; I’ll be able to hone in on his location once we’re within range. When we locate the ship he’s on and which section he’s in, we can inform Pidge and she can take you and the Blade with you as close as she can undetected. Hunk and I can wait nearby and provide back up if necessary.”

Kolivan’s face is thoughtful. He considers Lance’s contribution to the plan and nods. “My subordinate and I are ready to leave the base immediately. Are we able to align our paths en route?”

Lance glances over his shoulder. “Pidge?”

She hurries over to her seat, pulls up a few charts and checks over her maps. “If we leave now, we can be at an approximate halfway point in two vargas. Sorry, Kolivan. Allura’s busy with Lotor on the ship. It’ll take us too long to locate her and get back to the Castle to wormhole.”

Kolivan nods. “That is fine. Send us the coordinates. We will meet there as planned and discuss further infiltration tactics from there.”

The screen closes. Lance, Pidge and Hunk share a stunned moment of silence. Pidge is the first to snap into action, already at her control panel. She flicks the coordinates of the rendezvous point through to the ship from which Kolivan hailed us, and then runs for the Green paladin’s zipline.

 “Come on,” Lance says, running for the zipline that’ll take him to Red’s hangar. “It’s Keith we’re saving this time. No time to lose.”

“Shouldn’t we, like, leave a note or something?” Hunk shouts. “To let the others know where we’ve gone?”

“We’ll send a message to Coran. Let’s get to our Lions first, though.”

Lance’s heart beats fast with fear for Keith, but somehow the reality of it all isn’t sinking in. The mission must’ve gone seriously wrong for _Keith_ to be captured. Were they ambushed? Ran down a wrong turn? Maybe Keith made some stupid decision that led him right into their hands?

…like himself to save the operative he was meant to extract. Yes, that’s probably exactly what he did. Lance remembers Keith hurling himself in his ship at the battlecruiser when Voltron was fleeing Naxzela.

The way he’d willingly stepped aside to allow Shiro to return to leadership in Black, even if it left him without a Lion to fly.

The timing of when he left Voltron, shortly after Lance had brought up the problem with the math of six paladins.

Keith, that selfless, mullet-headed kamikaze…

As soon as he’s in Red, Lance opens his mind to a deep communication with Red. He conveys the urgency, his fears, his terror of not knowing where in the universe they’ve taken Keith. He feels Red’s growl vibrate through his body, is stabbed by her pang of worry and her white-hot anger, sharpened like a spear ready to impale the ship holding her other paladin captive.

The flight from the Castle is a lonely one. Pidge and Hunk are scared speechless, and Lance is no better. There’s no possible words of comfort to offer each other, not when the same, horrifying scenarios are playing through minds. He gathers from the radio silence from Pidge and Hunk, they’re all beginning to feel the reality of the situation hit home.

There’s no sign of Keith on their way to their rendezvous point with Kolivan. Lance doesn’t expect there to be, but it’s disheartening all the same. It’s like a physical fire has been extinguished all of a sudden, thinking about what might happen to their teammate, to their friend. The thought of Keith’s absence becoming permanent is enough to leave Lance feeling cold.

_Find him, Red._

 

When he wakes, he finds his body unwilling – or rather, unable – to move. His brain is foggy and the concussion hurts. The blast wound on his arm is nauseating, or maybe that’s just the aftereffects of the drug that knocked him out. He feels worse than he did after the Trials.

Hearing noises nearby, Keith opens his eyes. He’s strapped to an interrogation table. It’s vertical, and the room is both clad and lit in purple. In his peripheral he sees the bands holding him down are made of a translucent pink metal like glass. His hands and feet are pinned by them, and a longer band across his torso, just below the ribcage, keeps his back pressed against the table. He sees they left the chestplate of his armour on. There’s not much movement in his fingers, since his arms are bent up at right angles, his hands held almost above his head. He figures by the numbness, he must’ve been here like this a while.

A druid stands behind a control panel. Keith doesn’t notice him at first since he stands so still. He does notice, however, the cloaked figure standing next to the druid, her long white hair falling out from under the hood. She looks like some kind of witch –

Haggar.  

Keith sucks in a breath. If Haggar’s here, he knows he’s in for an unpleasant time. Keith sets his face, trying to appear not as petrified as he really is. He won’t tell her anything. His mind’s made up about that. No matter how much she hurts him, he won’t tell her anything. He won’t give anything away.

Haggar sneers at the unconvincing expression on his face. On some unspoken cue, the druid moves a hand up the control panel.

The pain is excruciating.

Keith shuts his eyes against the electrifying energy that tears through his body. The veins in his arms, the blood in his head, the beating of his heart, the bones in his legs. Fire. Ice. Pain. Can’t breathe. Stop. Stop!

The druid moves his hand away and the energy flowing through the bands dissipates. Keith’s eyes stretch wide as he tries to settle his heartbeat, tries to catch his breath, ignore the nausea in his stomach. The voltage isn’t reduced completely, though, allowing a low stream of electricity to keep Keith’s muscles feeling like paste.

The druid tilts its head slightly. “Tell us what you know, _paladin._ ”

They know he’s – he was – a paladin of Voltron? Oh right. Aside from Matt and Commander Holt, the only humans in space are all Voltron paladins. Keith wonders if he still technically counts as one, now that he’s working with the Blades.

His heart skips a beat. That’s it. Haggar already knows about Voltron. She’s been studying them for months. It’s the Blades that she has very little intel on, and it’s with that thought that Keith understands why he was brought here.

The druid repeats the question, raising his hand ever so slightly. Keith grits his teeth against the current, heart racing, bracing himself for what will follow his reply.

They’ll have to murder him before he gives up any information.

“ _Never_.”

The voltage ramps up. Twenty seconds. Thirty. Keith gasps for air. The druid pulls it back. He’s given only a couple of seconds to recover his breath before the next wave is upon him. Keith screams until his voice gives out.

Haggar watches him for a minute afterwards. The yellow sclera of her eyes glow, unblinking. Keith raises his head, panting hard but holding her gaze, answering it with a fierce, deep-seated fire.

Haggar narrows he eyes and then leaves with the druid.

Keith hangs as he is, his body convulsing against the restraints. His hair is sweaty and his face is hot. His fingers jerk in the air.

He wonders what on earth that was about. They want him to talk but don’t stay to interrogate him? That can’t be a good thing.

The absence of druids and Haggar stretches on and on. Nobody comes. Nothing happens. After he stops feeling so queasy and can breathe a bit better, inspite of the band across his torso restricting airspace in his diaphragm, he tests the bonds. No use. If he thought the twine was tight, the bonds are worse. The metal has no give in it, and it stays clamped onto him without budging the slightest.

_Patience yields focus_. Keith closes his eyes, trying to channel some thoughts. There’s nothing. Just the helplessness of realising there’s no way he’ll be able to break out of the bonds, no way he’ll be able to escape on his own – not unless someone comes to rescue him, but he’d rather no one did. It’s too risky.

Krolia will have made it back to Blade headquarters by now. She’ll have told Kolivan. Whether or not Kolivan decides he’s worth it is up to him. Keith understands if it’s too risky. It’s fine if they leave him here. But in the back of his mind it’s just another form of rejection.

Keith smiles wryly, realising what the witch is up to.

She’s letting him _think_.

_Does she expect me to go crazy? Start talking to myself out loud or something?_

It dawns on him that Haggar’s seen the fight in him. She knows he won’t break easily; torturing him won’t make him give in. She’s decided on a different way of tormenting him: dealing him indescribable pain and then leaving him to suffer alone, in silence. All in an attempt to wear the fight out of him.

But Keith fears there’s more to it than that. He doesn’t deny himself a small space in his heart to feel afraid. He should be afraid. If he wasn’t wanted for interrogation, the druids might have him in a lab as an experiment. Maybe that’s plan number two, if making him lose his mind doesn’t work.

He shudders at the thought of it. Nausea creeps back into his stomach.

Haggar’s torment is effective.

 

Kolivan and Krolia rendezvous with Lance’s team ahead of schedule. After changing into fitted Blade uniform back at Base, Krolia is itching to get the mission underway. Hope flares in her chest when she sees the three Lions, only proving to make her more restless.

She’s heard of Voltron but never seen any of the Lions first-hand. Krolia takes some time to appreciate their craftsmanship as Kolivan pilots the ship steadily into the Green Lion’s belly.

Once the ship is safety stowed away in the Lion’s belly, the airlock slides closed. Kolivan leads Krolia up into the Green Lion’s cockpit, clambering up a series of ladders before they reach the doors. The cockpit airlock doors part and the shortest of the three from the video swings around in her seat.

“Welcome aboard,” she says. Her flat tone betrays how worried she is. She turns back to the controls. “Ship’s secure. Ready when you are.”

Lance’s image appearing above the Green Lion’s dashboard. “Hello, Kolivan. Good to see you.”

Touching a hand to the side of his neck, Kolivan lowers his mask. “Likewise.”

Krolia is confused. Isn’t that _blue_ armour Lance is wearing? But he’s piloting the Red Lion…

She then remembers Kolivan filling her in with Keith’s previous activity with Voltron. The Red Lion’s paladin was actually Keith, before various circumstances meant there was a switch in Lions. Krolia realises they must’ve kept their original armour in spite of the mismatch in colour coordination. Pidge, the paladin of the Green Lion, still wears green, Krolia notes, so the change must’ve only affected some of the Lions and their pilots.

Pidge tells Kolivan she left a message with a very concerned someone named Coran and the well-known Princess Allura. Given the urgency of Kolivan’s message, Allura hurried back to the Castle where she waits on standby as they speak, should they need further assistance.

Lotor’s knowledge of prisoner shipping routes and camps helps them narrow down possible areas where Keith may be being held. The nearest probable whereabouts of Trugg’s main fleet ship, based on the regions Trugg’s faction usually operates in, is fortunately no more than three vargas away. Krolia converts that to Earth measurements to keep tabs on Keith’s length of time in captivity.

Almost five hours. It took her seven and a half hours just to get back to Base, roughly an hour to ready ship and notify Ilun of their departure and another two and a bit hours to get to where they are now.

Sixteen hours. That’s at least sixteen hours between Keith’s capture and the earliest prospect of getting him back. Krolia does her best not to let her imagination drift.

She crosses her arms as Kolivan runs through his proposed plan of attack. It’s basically the same as what Lance had outlined on the video call from the Castle, only with a few additional details which Pidge logs into a data sheet for later reference.  

Once the briefing is clear, Krolia isn’t quite so uptight. They have a plan. If it works, they’ll have Keith out of there before too much damage is done to him. If he’s anything like his father, or even herself, then Krolia doubts he’ll give into any amount of pain they throw at him. He won’t talk. But that means whoever’s trying to get information from him will be far more ruthless. Who knows what they’ll do to him in sixteen hours…

With a considerable flight ahead, Krolia considers lowering her mask. She is about to ask permission to reveal her identity when Pidge beats her to it.

“This is a wild shot,” the Green paladin asks over her shoulder, “but are you in some way – _any_ way – related to Keith?”

It takes Krolia a moment to realise it’s _her_ Pidge is talking to.

“Aside from being Galra, I mean,” Pidge continues. She grins. “Seriously, you guys stand _exactly_ the same way. I don’t even have to see your face to know that you’re scowling.”

Krolia stiffens, uncrossing her arms in alarm. She has to remind herself her mask’s still in place. If she’d just stood still, she wouldn’t have let her emotions show.

Pidge narrows her eyes, her grin broadening. “You two _have_ to be related.”

Kolivan casts Krolia a sideways glance. Krolia sighs and releases her mask.

Pidge steadies the controls, turns in her seat and goes still in shock at the sight of her. “Oh my gosh…”

“Yes. My name is Krolia,” she says. She wonders how much to say, since she hasn’t even told Keith yet. But considering the Green Paladin managed to figure it out just by body language, Krolia realises she may as well just say it. “I am Keith’s mother.”

Pidge squawks into the communications. “Did you guys just hear that?!”

“Keith’s _mum_ is also on this mission?!” Hunk yells. “Are you kidding?”

Pidge eyes Krolia carefully, her voice lowering. “Does he know?”

Krolia closes her eyes, letting out slow, controlled breath. “No. I wasn’t going to tell him until after the mission, on the way back to Base.”

“He didn’t recognise you?” Hunk asks flatly.

Lance snorts. “I say ‘vol’…? If that went over his head, I think this would’ve, too.” He mumbles something unintelligent. “We’ve seriously got to find that guy. Stupid Mullet doesn’t even know he’s met his own mum…”

 

The Lions draw closer to the coordinates Lotor updated for them. The last known whereabouts of the vessel they’re looking for is in this region. They’re close enough that the Lions register it on their long-range scanners, but not close enough to get a visual on it.

_Keep searching, Red. We’ve got to find him._

Lance takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to shut out the view of empty space before him. He brings himself into a deep concentration that syncs himself with Red’s life force, blends the energy of their quintessence. After a minute or two of stilling himself, Lance is plunged into Red’s emotional search radar. He powers it with his own feelings. Desperation. Searching. Dread. Red lets out a low rumble and expands the parameters of the search.

According to Kolivan, Keith may be on that ship or somewhere nearby, or at least have been here at some stage. Lotor’s coordinates confirm that the vessel he was last assumed to be on indeed passed through the area they’re tracking through, but Red isn’t picking up anything. There’s not a trace of Keith’s quintessence at all.

Then Lance feels a pinch in his gut. Red’s growl deepens. Still no sign of Keith, but Red senses his presence. Keith _has_ been on that vessel. He’s just not there anymore.

Lance opens his eyes, tapping on the keyboard to open up a video screen. For a heart-stopping moment he thinks he sees Keith standing in the background of the video, before realising that it’s Krolia he’s staring at.

_Pidge isn’t wrong. Keith’s the splitting image of her._

 “Kolivan,” he says when Pidge’s face appears in front of him. Kolivan emerges from the shadows of the cockpit and Lance continues. “We’ve searched the ship. Red’s picking up a scent – or remnant of Keith’s presence, I guess you could call it – but it’s faded.”

“Elaborate.”

“He’s not there. He’s not on that ship.”

Kolivan narrows his eyes. “He’s been transferred.”


	4. Searching

Hours pass before Haggar returns.

She’s tried getting information out of him five times already. Maybe more. He can’t remember. Keith’s perception of time is blurry. The questions, the cackles, the snarls. He can’t _think_. The burning pain in his arm only grows worse, and the spasms his that lash his body from electrocution have left him disjointed from feeling, dissociating.

The witch walks right up to him and examines him closely. No druid with her this time. Keith wonders if that is a good thing or not.

Haggar clamps a hand over his mouth. Keith’s stomach lurches. He struggles against the restraints, tries to twist his head from her grasp but she only leans into her hold on him and presses down harder. His lungs fight for air. Heart pounding. Need to breathe.

The moment she withdraws her hand he gasps. A mistake. Haggar seizes the moment to pour a shot of some tangy-spicy liquid into his mouth. She tosses the small cup onto the floor and rams the heel of her hand into his jaw, forcing his mouth closed. She slaps the other hand back over his mouth, this time covering his nose as well. His lungs scream at him to breathe. He can’t shake her off. His chest heaves, face growing hot with straight-up panic.

Keith’s only option is to swallow. Only when his body involuntarily does so does Haggar withdraw her hands.

Air. His throat itches. Keith sucks in oxygen, tries to fight off the horror of what he just swallowed.

The witch does not smile. “You’ll wish you spoke sooner. Don’t think I won’t give you more if you decide to stay silent.”

Her tone is so neutral she almost sounds bored. It only fuels Keith’s terror more. He hasn’t been this afraid since he faced Zarkon one-on-one in Red.

Haggar snickers at the fear that flashes in his eyes. She turns away from him and goes to leave, but then pauses in the doorway. “You’re not getting away, paladin,” she rasps. “I’ll get the information I want out of you.”

For good measure, she steps back into the room, reaches a hand out to the control panel and electrocutes him for a short burst. Keith grunts as the shock ripples through him. A groan escapes him but he doesn’t say anything.

The witch takes one last look at him and leaves.

Saliva slips from his mouth. It only takes a minute of being in his system and the poison burns his throat and chest like hot chilli. His eyes and nose water uncontrollably and the pounding in his head intensifies. His fingers lose feeling altogether. He grows cold and he begins to shakes all over. It’s worse than a shiver; he’s shaking wildly and it _hurts._

He’s left alone to suffer like this the next two hours.

In this phase of silence, he’s surrounded by memories. They’re a bit all over the place and random, and growing hazy. Keith finds he can’t remember the taste of Hunk’s cooking anymore, he’s been gone from Team Voltron so long. What did it feel like to fight alongside Shiro? Why did he argue with Lance so often? Even the memory of Kolivan’s voice is somehow fading.

He’s always feared they’ll reject him, both Voltron and the Blades. He still does. But he realises something all of a sudden that he’s failed to fully notice before: they’ve never turned their backs on him.

The Blade of Marmora accepted him despite how pathetic a mission-keeper he turned out to be. He isn’t even full Galra, only half their height and a child compared to the rest of them. How many times has he got on Kolivan’s nerves? How many times has he disobeyed orders, or broke protocol, or let his emotions get in the way of the task at hand? Yet the Blade leader still keeps Keith at his side, keeps involving him in missions behind enemy lines. He’d also just assigned Keith on a solo high-stakes extraction mission, in spite of knowing that at the Kral Zera he let his emotions get in the way of the mission once again.

The number of times he should’ve been rejected but wasn’t…

Keith should’ve realised it when the other paladins gave him a chance to lead. He should’ve noticed when Lance stepped up and placed a hand on his shoulder, accepting him even as Black had. Allura, Hunk, Lance and Pidge…they hadn’t hesitated to tell Keith how badly he’d screwed up on Thayserix, but at the same time they encouraged him to give leading another shot, to put what had happened behind him and learn from it. He may not have made many good decisions as a leader, but they’d trusted him enough to be the head of Voltron anyways. Keith had thought, after everything he’d messed up, they’d all be glad to see him gone. But now he remembers Pidge crying before he left, saying she’ll miss him. She’d cried for him.

He misses these people. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

Haggar interrupts his thinking.

She’s back sooner than he expected. Alone, again. Keith’s heart sinks. Electrocution isn’t fun but it’s better when the druid’s here. Haggar’s not so unpredictable when she’s got someone else with her.

In her hands, the witch has a couple of leafless twigs. She holds them up to Keith’s face and – the relief is amazing. The twigs hold some kind of aromatherapy effect, easing the hot pain from each breath and soothing his throat. It doesn’t dampen the poison’s effects on the rests of his body but it makes withstanding them a little more bearable.

Keith only has a minute of this relief before Haggar drops her arm. The burning sensation returns almost instantly.

“For as long as you’re willing to talk, I’m willing to hold these up for you. What do you say, paladin?”

Keith musters as steely a glare as he can manage. She knows his answer already. His mind’s made up. He’s not changing it.

Haggar narrows her eyes. “You’ll only get worse. How about I give you some time to think about it? Let me warn you now: I’ll be bringing a second dose of that poison along too, next time. You’ll be having that instead of the twigs if you continue your silence.”

Her purpose finished, she leaves.

_Why do you keep trying?_ Keith wonders.

His shaking still hasn’t ceased, and the burning in his throat and chest is worsening. His eyes and nose have stopped watering but every breath he takes is fire.

_I don’t care how much pain I’m in. I’m not telling you anything._

The real question is how long he can endure the torture before it kills him.

 

Within an hour, his condition has grown considerably worse. His body aches with feverish cramps. His throat is inflamed, and he has to keep his head up in order to breathe. That wouldn’t have been such a difficult task if he wasn’t so tired. A couple of times he jolts awake after his head drops onto his chest and cuts off his breathing. Keith tries leaning his head back against the table but it’s too vertical to actually do so. The pain in his neck radiates outward across his shoulders, aching.

The relentless heat that fills his chest reminds him of the fierceness of Red’s temperament. Of what her rage felt like when she attacked the Blade of Marmora base to get to him. It reminds him of the sharp adrenaline that filled his veins like a white-hot fire when he flew her into combat.

Keith focuses on that. Imagines that the pain he feels is Red.

He begins to think he actually feels her. He thinks he sees through her eyes. In the vision, she’s out in space, flying frantically about as though she’s desperately searching for something. Keith knows he must be hallucinating when the purple walls around him morph into the Red Lion’s cockpit. He even hears Lance’s voice.

The vision abruptly disappears.

Keith’s vision swirls. He’s endured this pain before – in the desert. It was worse then. He was so alone and confused, terribly lost. But where once there had been nothing but Earth dust settling in his heart waiting to crumble, there’s now a solid foundation he can stand upon: his friends and the Blades. They’re the only reason he hasn’t broken yet.

It’s the anchor of hope he clings to, the hope that somehow there has to be a way out of this.

The hope that he won’t have to be alone anymore.

 

Lance and Red grow anxious. It’s been three vargas. He’s too upset to convert Altean time into equivalent Earth hours. To be frank, he just wants the increasing numbers out of his head. He just wants find Keith and get him out of there.

Hunk starts voicing his worries as time elapses and they have nothing to show for their search efforts. Pidge joins him, ranting and rambling on about how, with each second that passes, who knows what could be happening to Keith. It takes all Lance’s good will not to tell them to shut up.

Kolivan, aside from suggesting another area to expand their search, doesn’t speak. He appears to have remained relatively calm throughout the search, although Lance is sure the Blade leader’s tone seems a little less authoritive with every sentence he says. If Lance had known him better, he might think Kolivan is anxious.

Krolia’s only form of communication is her silence. Lance is relieved she’s in Green, not standing behind him in Red. Keith was uncomfortable enough to be around when he was fuming. If he got that silent anger from his mother, then Krolia’s wrath must be at least double his.

Lance is sickened. Keith _was?_ What in the world is he _thinking?_

_Come on, Red. We can’t be searching hard enough._

Through the shared connections between the Lions, Lance reaches for something to drive with.  Hunk’s brotherly love for Keith. Pidge’s fear that another member of her family is in the hands of the Galra, out of her reach. He also feels Hunk’s deep-set faith that they’ll find him and Pidge’s double-edged sword of determination with which she’ll search the whole universe if that’s what it takes to bring Keith back. Lance is empowered by these emotions and overwhelmed by them.

He and Red search again.

Silence. Nothing. Lance lets out a frustrated shout.

Red’s eyes flash. His heart pings in unison with the dashboard.

Lance inhales sharply, heart pounding. “G-guys. Quadrant Nine in the Uliviam Sector.”

A stressed Pidge mumbles, “What about it?”

Lance double-checks with Red, blinking hard at the red triangle that’s just appeared on the scanner. It’s real, alright.

“It’s Keith. We found him.”


	5. Extraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone so much for your comments (and kudos)! It's hard to find the words to describe how much I appreciate it :) 
> 
> Thank you~! <3

When they’re within range of the vessel, Lance feels Keith’s pain. Red’s emotions are chaotic.

_Strangling pain. Fire. He swallows something foul. It’s not the first time. Lightning._

Lance doubles over in Red’s cockpit and throws up over the side of his chair.

Hunk expresses his sympathies. Lance hastily zooms out from his connection with Red, shutting out any further experiences. He reassures Hunk he’s fine, says it’s just Red getting a bit excited. He leaves out the rest.

_Hang in there, buddy. We’re coming to get you right now._

Pidge is taking Kolivan and Krolia in now, the Green Lion invisible to all but the other Lion’s radars. Lance directs Pidge to the centre of the ship, a couple of Lion-lengths towards the bow from the left wing. That’s where Keith’s quintessence feels strongest. Lance waits with Hunk out of range of the ship’s scanners. Normally they would’ve had to be a lot further away to avoid detection, but Pidge’s quick modifications enable them to come in closer.

“They’re in,” Pidge says.

She remains where she is a while, before moving back slightly, ready to manoeuvre her Lion to the exit point at Kolivan’s command.

Waiting a way back from the ship, Lance and Hunk are tense as they wait for Kolivan’s cue, or a sign that they need to intervene.

_Fire. Shivering. Scathing heat._

 “Pidge,” Lance says, desperation creeping into his voice. “Where’re they at?”

_Burning. The words, ‘one less Blade of Marmora spy’._

“Pidge?”

“They’re making their way through the vents,” Pidge reports. “Since we don’t have Keith’s exact location, they’re going to drop out into the hallways in a moment. I’ve jammed the security feeds with fake footage and managed to power down the sentries in that hallway. But it’s a high-security area. Kolivan and Krolia are going to meet some resistance.”

“The druids,” Hunk exclaims. “Didn’t Shiro say they were the ones who did the interrogation?”

“It’s not the druids,” Lance says quietly. “It’s Haggar.”

“What? The witch? _She’s_ the one torturing Keith? That is unforgivable. Any kind of hurting Keith is unforgivable. Where is she at this very moment? What if Kolivan and his mum run into her? Keith’s mum, I mean.”

“Then they fight,” snaps Pidge. “Allura took her on one-on-one that time, remember? As long as Kolivan and Krolia get a strike in first, we’re good.”

 

As the thick darkness in his head swells, the doors open again. Keith’s shaking has rendered him utterly void of energy. It’s died down to a barely noticeable shiver, but in its wake all he feels is numbness all over. Pain rages at the surface of the numbness, pulsing with every strained beat of his heart.

He’s not going to make it. He thought he could. He thought he’d be able to survive a little while longer, hold out maybe another day or two. Haggar must’ve realised he’s useless for interrogation now and so she’s come back to finish him off. He’s a waste of space. Might as well dispose of him.

Keith waits for the voltage, or the third and final dose of poison. Instead what comes is his knife.

He squints through what remains of his vision and a Blade of Marmora uniform comes into focus. The Blade wielding his knife cuts through the ankle restraints before standing up straight and unmasking.

… _Krolia?_

Keith stares at her, dazed. His eyes won’t open the whole way. She’s wearing a weird kind of skirt around her waist. Though his brain’s dead with fever, Keith manages to think how impractical that is. She’s on a rescue mission and she’s wearing movement-restricting clothing?

“I di’-…” His voice breaks into a cough. Trying again, he slurs, “Didn’ say an’thin…”

Krolia stands herself directly in front of him. “Didn’t expect that you would.”

Keith tenses, remembering what the witch did to him. But Krolia only reaches up and cuts through the restraints around his wrists. She does his right hand first. She takes his hand and straightens his arm out, draping it over her shoulder. Keith moans as his muscles are forced out of the right angle they’ve been in for so long. The blast wound on his shoulder burns with the movement. Krolia leans him into her, her shoulders supporting his chest. With a careful hand she tilts his head so that it rests against the side of her neck.

Krolia repeats the same action for his left arm then slices through the band across his torso. Keith gasps as the band gives. His chest expands with the first full-depth breathe in…however long. He sags against her, completely limp. She readjusts her grip on him as he slips down, his knees hitting the floor. She pulls his uninjured arm strongly across her shoulders. Keith’s head drops to his chest and he coughs, his throat constricting.

As Krolia sort-of drags, sort-of carries him away from the interrogation table, Keith’s void of any sense of emotion. There’s not even a sense of relief, just…release.

Krolia raises her mask at some point. Keith’s eyes flicker open in time to see Kolivan duck into a crouch. He’s able to recognise the Blade leader by stance even without seeing his distinguished uniform. Krolia hauls Keith through the door and leans him over Kolivan’s back, placing the arm she’s holding over his shoulder. Krolia picks up Keith’s wounded arm and puts it over Kolivan’s other shoulder.

“Koh’i’mh…” Keith murmurs into Kolivan’s neck. His throat is sore with the sounds it makes.

Aside from the poison Haggar shoved into his mouth, he’s had nothing to drink since he left on the extraction mission to retrieve Krolia. Forget the emptiness in his stomach. It’s his thirst which is unbearable.

Kolivan’s voice penetrates the darkness, accompanied by the fierce, commanding tone of Krolia’s. He feels something soft wrapping protectively around his back. It’s pulled over his shoulders, beneath his arms and over Kolivan’s chest. It’s then wrapped around his thighs – he only now registers that Kolivan’s brought his legs around his waist in a piggy-back – and tugged up to meet the top two corners of the material in the centre of Kolivan’s chest. The four corners are knotted into straps. Like this he’s fastened to Kolivan’s back, secure.

Keith can no longer open his eyes, making it harder and harder to stay with them. He hears Kolivan command him to stay strong. He tries, he really tries. But Keith knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he won’t be able to keep that command. His brain is swimming in pain and darkness.

A mew of terror escapes him when he hears the witch’s voice. A metallic whistling hurtles down the corridor and the witch yells. Pounding footsteps. He cracks his eyes one last time open enough to see Krolia neatly dodge an enraged swipe, take her sword from Haggar’s shoulder, pick up the witch and lob her into the interrogation room. There’s a thud as the witch crashes into something, probably the vertical table.

The two Blades take off running. Keith moans. The carrier, which Keith’s mind grasps must be the skirt Krolia had been wearing, keeps him in place on Kolivan’s back even as he runs. It lets Kolivan have his hands free, and enables the three of them to get out of there faster. It also means Keith doesn’t have to hang on. He doesn’t have the energy or strength to do that.

Noise and rushing. The muscles in Kolivan’s shoulders working. Krolia shouts at him to live. Keith presumes she means him, not Kolivan. Well, yes, and Kolivan. Her voice is distant. For some unknown reason, his chest tightens at the thought of Krolia being so far away from him. It’s like there’s an innate longing inside of him to be near her. He wants her closer to him. It confuses his him, and confirms to Keith that the fever’s getting ten times worse than he thought it was.

There’s shouting. Kolivan adjusts his stride, twisting and turning all of a sudden. Blasts are shot. Metal clangs, crashes. Electricity fizzes. The blood drains from Keith’s face.

He’s aware of footfalls, more blasts, voices…

…….

…….

 

 

As soon as the alert’s been raised, the ship opens fire. Pidge yelps as the first shot fires, narrowly avoiding a head-on hit.

“Guys, back-up! Back-up!”

Lance had Red moving the second he saw the first beam of purple. He speeds towards the uncloaked Green Lion, Hunk not far behind him. “Already on it!”

Pidge’s cursing fills the comms. She’s too busy dodging the ship’s offensive to update Lance on the Blades’ status, only making him more on edge. Lance has to suppress Red’s persistent urge to flamethrower the ship.

 _I know,_ he thinks, a little irritated. _I want to blow up that ship as much as you do. But not yet. Not until we get Keith out of there. Not until Kolivan and Krolia can tell us which part of the ship he’s_ not _in._

Since attacking the ship is basically out of the question, all the Lions can do is dance around the shots fired at them and buy Kolivan and Krolia enough time to scour the hallways.

No word from Kolivan yet.

Lance is getting restless. After the last onslaught of emotions from Red, he hasn’t been able to feel Keith’s presence as strongly. It’s like he’s fading. Red’s mad desire to rip the ship apart till she finds him at least confirms he’s still in there, somewhere. Exactly where, though, is the question.

“Cover me,” Hunk says. Yellow flashes through the intermittent purple. “I’m gonna damage the weapons systems as much as I – ”

“Hunk! You’ll blow the ship up!” Pidge yells.

“Don’t worry. Just enough to disable the side cannons.”

Lance catches something mumbled beneath Hunk’s last few words. Not Pidge. Not Kolivan either, though it almost sounded like someone said Kolivan’s name. Who though? Perhaps he imagined it.

Hunk charges the line of cannons on the ship’s flank. With Yellow’s jaw blade, he strips the vessel of full use of the turrets, nicking and denting them enough to throw off the accuracy of their shots. Aside from a few sparks on contact, there’s no fireworks. No explosions.

Lance lets out a breath. “Nice work, Hunk.”

Yellow spins out of the way of the weaker, scrambled shots the cannons now fire.

“No problem,” Hunk replies, before tackling the cannons on the other side of the ship in the same way, just in case.

Lance keeps an eye on Pidge and an ear on the communications. Pidge is meant to be collecting Kolivan and Krolia on their way out with Keith, but she’s currently too busy avoiding getting shot at to bring Green in close again. Hunk’s efforts have reduced the risk of damage if they do get hit, but this is already a rescue mission – they can’t afford to have anyone else in danger.

_“...his mask up.”_

It’s Kolivan. Hope flares in Lance’s stomach. Red lets out a rumble in between a purr and a growl.

“Kolivan? What’s the situation?”

_“We have secured Keith. Coming out now.”_

The grin in Pidge’s voice is audible. “Yes!”

Hunk whoops in delight.

 _“What?”_ Kolivan asks, his voice lowered. “ _It’s broken?”_

Lance gathers by his tone that he’s talking to Krolia, not him. A rustling fills the comms along with a grunt of annoyance before Kolivan raises his voice to address the Lions again.

_“Pidge. Do you copy? Are you at the extraction point?”_

Pidge yells out in frustration as her Lion takes a hit. “A little busy here! How long do I have?”

_“Thirty ticks. Can you get there on time?”_

“I’m not sure….”

 _“This is no time for uncertainty_.” There’s a certain strain to Kolivan’s voice that betrays his usual calm. His words are harsher, less levelled and…stressed?

 _Something’s wrong_.

Lance grits his teeth. “Kolivan, I’ll be there!”

_“It doesn’t matter who. Any Lion is fine, but don’t delay. Keith’s mask is damaged.”_

No one responds across all three Lions. The situation just got a whole lot tighter. Keith’s gonna be spaced if they don’t have a Lion at the extraction point at the exact right time.

Fifteen ticks. Lance grimaces.

“Kolivan, you’re going to have to jump. I’ll get you, don’t worry. Trust me.”

_Shut up and trust me!_

Now he’s starting to sound like Keith. _Great._

Lance takes a deep breath. Adrenaline. Nerves. Red.

 _“Five ticks!”_ Kolivan shouts.

Lance whips Red around and sends her torpedoing towards the ship. “Three, two, one!”

A door bursts open in the side of the ship. Two figures leap out. On Kolivan’s back is a third.

Without a mask on.

Lance slams on the brakes, pulling Red back into a halting descent. With a sharp tug on the control sticks, Red drifts to the side, jaws parting. Minimal thrusters forward.

Got them.

“Hang on!”

Lance streaks away from the ship in Red. There’s a hiss of an airlock and a violent rushing of space as Kolivan and Krolia scramble against the turbulence into Red. The airlock closes.

“Permission to blow up ship!” Lance announces.

Green lasers rip through the vessel. Branches tear through the metal. Yellow blasts the stern. Lance waits until Kolivan and Krolia are with him in the cockpit, the doors closed behind them, before he lets Red loose.

Red roars. A torrent of fire shoots forth from her mouth, white-hot at the core. Lance whistles.

She. Is. _Angry._

Pidge screams at the vessel a second before covering it in more panel-rupturing plant life. Red’s anger catches fire on Green’s vines and explodes when it meets Yellow’s cannon blasts. Lance feels a stir of satisfaction watching the Lions wreck the vessel. It might only be a single ship, but he’s never enjoyed destroying a ship as much as this.

“Alright,” he says. “Now let’s get out of this mess.”

 

Keith stopped responding before they’d left the ship.

Krolia helps Kolivan undo the knots of the makeshift carrier from his chest. She readies her hands on Keith’s shoulders, catching him in her arms as he slides backwards of Kolivan’s back. Kolivan twists around and together they lower Keith to the floor. They keep him as still as they can while the Red Lion undergoes a few evasive manoeuvres. A loud boom erupts behind them a minute later and the shots stop firing at them.

Krolia grimaces, images of yesterday flashing through her mind. _Trugg. The base. Trying to reach Keith. The shots stop firing at her. She dives after her son. The ship is already lifting off…_

“How is he?” Lance asks from the pilot’s seat.

Kolivan grunts. “Alive.”

In the Red Lion’s light, Keith looks so sickly that it disarms even Kolivan. Without his mask up, it’s obvious as day how uncharacteristically unnerved the Blade leader is. Krolia isn’t much better herself. Her gut twists inside of her like it hasn’t in a long time – since she left Keith. She struggles to tear her eyes away from the boy’s face. Undeniably her son. Krolia lowers her mask so she’s not looking at him through lenses anymore. He’s so close to her. So close…yet slipping further and further away from her.

“Lance, is Keith with you?” Pidge asks. The intonation of her words sounds off.

“Yep, here in Red. Kolivan and Krolia are here, too.”

“I think she means, is he still hanging on?” Hunk explains. “You don’t have any medical supplies in there, do you? Pidge has them. In the shuttle in Green.”

Krolia exchanges a glance with Kolivan. This is why they needed to be picked up by Green Lion.

There’s a noisy rummaging and then a large box slides across the floor towards them.

“First-aid kit,” Lance explains. “I hope there’s enough stuff in there.”

Krolia narrows her eyes at the Blue – Red…whatever, paladin. He seems to be purposefully avoiding looking at Keith, keeping his eyes fixed on the field of space before them, concentrating hard on flying them onward. The sight of Keith lying motionless on the floor probably isn’t what he finds so distressing; Krolia suspects something else has disturbed him for him to be acting this way.

Kolivan keeps a hand braced on Keith’s good arm in case of turbulence. Krolia opens the ‘first-aid kit’ box, as Lance called it, and pulls out an oxygen reserve tank. Kolivan lifts Keith’s head gently in his hands, allowing Krolia to slip the strap of the mask over her son’s head. Keith’s breaths barely fog the mask at all. Kolivan tilts the boy’s chin up a bit further in order to open up his airways a little more.

“I am concerned about how warm his face is,” Kolivan murmurs. He dropped the authoritive tone a while back. “Are humans supposed to be this warm?”

Krolia lays a hand on Keith’s forehead. He’s pale as a ghost but the heat rising from his skin feels like it could burn her palm. Krolia withdraws her hand, fishing through the box.

“Lance. Do you have any water in storage?”

“Water? As in, for drinking?”

“No, I just want to look at it,” Krolia retorts.

Lance peers around the edge of his seat, an eyebrow raised. “I take it that’s sarcasm, right?”

Krolia simply glares at him. She sees the small curl of his lips before he bends down to open a cupboard by his feet.

“Not water. Coran doesn’t trust it’ll stay purified enough. Are these pouches okay?” He tosses a couple of transparent pouches of liquid across the room at her. “We have these after training. They’re really good for rehydrating.”

Krolia deftly catches them and examines the liquid carefully before shrugging away caution. “He’s burning up. Anything’ll do.”

She stabs the straw through one pouch and hands it to Kolivan. Kolivan shifts from his crouch into kneeling. He pulls Keith’s upper back onto his lap. Before he feeds it to him, Kolivan takes the oxygen mask off and sets it down over the small cylindrical tank attached to it.  Supporting the back of his head with one hand and holding the pouch in the other, he then squeezes the hydration liquid into Keith’s mouth.

While Kolivan sees to it that Keith’s fluids are replenished to some degree, Krolia grabs a gauze pad and bandage out of the box. She tries not to take in the detail of the blast wound, bloodied and slightly infected. It needs a proper clean, but there’s no disinfectant in the first-aid box. Krolia wonders if Alteans even understand the concept of providing first aid in war.

_You can’t rely on Lions and cyropods all the time. That overconfidence will get someone killed…and that someone had better not be my son._

Keith doesn’t utter a sound as Krolia presses the gauze pad against the wound. His breathing doesn’t even hitch. Not a good sign. A glance at his face assures her he’s swallowing the water substitute okay. Krolia narrows her eyes when she notices the swelling on his throat. Now she understands why Kolivan’s making sure Keith’s head is tilted back in his lap.

All of a sudden, Kolivan puts down the pouch and replaces the mask over Keith’s mouth. There’s no fog. Krolia sees that his chest still rises, though very subtly. Her heart beats hard. The liquid in the pouch has only gone down a finger’s width.

Telling herself to keep steady, Krolia picks up the bandage roll and wraps it firmly around the gauze pad. She cuts off the end of the length she needs with her knife – Keith’s knife – and tucks it into the layers.

Throughout the whole process, neither Kolivan nor Krolia say a word. In her peripheral, she sees Lance glance around his chair a couple of times, apparently unsettled by their silence. He converses with the other two paladins over the comms, but Krolia pays most of what they’re saying no heed.

“I’ve contacted Allura,” Pidge says after a long lapse in the conversation. “She’s opening a wormhole for us in less than a dobash.”

Krolia is distracted by a choked rasping sound. Keith’s chest heaves at irregular intervals. He’s fading too fast. She wills him to hang in there, to just hold out a few more minutes. When the wormhole opens, his breaths grow even more desperate.

Krolia has no heart to admire the beauty of the Castle Lions when it appears on the other side of the wormhole, or marvel at the hulking mass of Zarkon’s central command towering over them. Her son is dying. It takes a minute before the Red Lion comes to rest in her designated hangar, another minute before Kolivan lays Keith down on the narrow stretcher a ginger-haired Altean man brought in.

Krolia jogs down the Castle hallways beside the trundling stretcher, carrying the oxygen tank beside Keith. She and Kolivan are the ones racing him to the medical bay. They’re the fastest. They have him there in a couple of minutes, have him transferred onto an examination table before anyone else arrives in the room behind them. All in just four minutes.

That’s four minutes too late.

Keith’s breath hitches. He exhales and doesn’t inhale again.


	6. Two Doses of Yamalln Herb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh thank you so much for all your kind comments! It warms my heart so much and I break out smiling whenever I read them!!

Krolia doesn’t see the Green paladin arrive until she scrambles up onto the examination table.

Pidge’s hands flutter about. She presses two fingers on his neck beneath his jaw. Tearing off the oxygen mask, she leans down so that her cheek hovers over Keith’s face. Pidge’s face screws up.

“No!” She taps his collarbone. No response. “Keith!” She taps his cheek. Nothing.

The Yellow paladin rushes in with the Altean man just as Pidge pinches Keith nose, tilts his chin up and starts breathing for him. Krolia and Kolivan watch her closely, watch Keith closely. Keith’s chest rises and falls with each breath Pidge gives him.

The Altean man looks flabbergasted. “Pidge? What are you doing?”

“Coran, she’s saving his life,” the Yellow paladin explains.

“By kissing him?”

Lance appears at Coran’s side. “Pfft. She’s not _kissing_ him. Do Alteans not know first-aid?”

Princess Allura and the Black paladin arrive at the door. Krolia expected the Princess to be dressed in royal Altean clothing. Instead, she’s wearing the same uniform of armour the other Voltron paladins wear, the distinguishing colour of the V on the chest plate a light pink.

Kolivan nods in acknowledgement at the Princess’ entrance. Krolia follows suit.

“Greetings, Princess,” Krolia murmurs. Her voice is tight. She didn’t mean it to sound so apathetic. Given the circumstances, it’s hard to alter her tone before she says things.

Allura acknowledges both her and Kolivan, then raises an eyebrow at Pidge leaning over Keith on the table. “Uh, Coran? What is she doing?”

“It’s a method of resuscitation used on Earth,” Krolia explains quietly. She feels a number of gazes shift to her. “Keith has entered respiratory arrest. His lungs will not draw air. Pidge is sustaining him.”

There’s a muttering of obscenities from Pidge. She’s pulled away from Keith’s face and is positioning her hands so the heel of her palms are over his sternum. “Cardiac arrest as well!”

Lance pales. The Yellow paladin, Hunk, presses the back of his hand over his mouth and ducks out of the room. The man in Black paladin armour – Shiro? – stares in shock.

“What happened to him?” Shiro asks.

Krolia glances at Lance, who is now looking down at his feet. He knows something, she realises, but whatever it is must be too disturbing to detail. Krolia remembers telling Keith about Ranveig’s superweapon. There were a lot of details she intentionally missed.

“He was tortured,” Krolia offers when no one answers. She earns a sideways glance from Kolivan when her voice breaks.

Shiro’s brow creases. If Krolia’s guess is right, he’s also a little confused at the lack of any obvious signs of torture. Aside from the bandaged blast wound on Keith’s arm, there isn’t much to go by. But in the wake of Keith's silence, Krolia doesn't have the heart to describe how she found him.

One minute. Two minutes.

“The witch gave him something,” Lance whispers. His voice pitches.

Krolia glances at the Blue paladin. She understands by the minimal volume to his words that this is what has been disturbing him. She feels dread trickle into her stomach. If Keith’s got any internal damage they’re unaware of…

Allura places a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “What do you mean, gave him something?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s just what Red showed me. But I’m…I’m pretty sure it was some kind of poison.”

Coran starts. “You don’t know what kind?”

Lance shakes his head. He sniffs, covers his mouth with hand.

“That’s what made you throw up during the fight?” Hunk asks, returned to the room.

He nods.

….ten minutes.

Shiro offers to take over for Pidge but she shakes her head vigorously, tears in the corners of her eyes. They all watch the Green paladin work hard to save Keith’s life. He’s still unresponsive. Pidge has kept him from death until now, but it’s beginning to sink in that her efforts may be in vain.

Krolia begins to see red. All this time spent away from her son and this is what their reunion leads to? She should’ve stayed away. Kolivan should never have sent him on that mission. She’d have been fine on her own. Trugg might’ve killed her, but it would’ve been better than this. Keith wouldn’t be in this situation. It’s not just her son who she’s about to lose, but a friend to all these people, a Blade and a paladin of Voltron. He’s her son, yes, but he’s also a critical player in this war.

She blinks. No, she is actually seeing red. The room is filled with a faint red aura.

_The Red Lion?_

Then Krolia notices Lance, his eyes squeezed shut as though he’s praying. He stands rigid, the blue of his armour turned purple in the red aura emanating…from him. Allura has noticed it too. Hunk nudges Shiro and points at Lance.

But Kolivan’s still staring at Keith. Krolia notices it then.

The red glow has started emanating from Keith’s motionless body, too.

…eleven minutes.

Pidge jerks back with a sharp exclamation.

When the Green paladin doesn’t lean in again, Shiro takes a step forward. Hunk quickly pulls him back by the shoulder.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Look.”

Keith is breathing again, on his own.

Nobody speaks. The red aura lingers in the room. For a good couple of minutes, everyone simply stares at Keith, transfixed. Pidge has her arms around Keith’s head, softly crying with her face buried in his hair.

Hunk puts an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “You okay, man?”

Lance opens his eyes, fixes his gaze on Keith’s rising and falling chest. The red emanating from him starts to fade. He nods.

Coran clears his throat. “Alright, let’s get him into a pod.”

Pidge reluctantly lets go. She doesn’t try to hide her wet cheeks. Shiro helps her down to the floor and then helps Kolivan slide Keith across the table to the stretcher. Coran taps some commands into the control panel of a pod in the corner of the room. It has a back support stand in it, meant to for patients already unconscious or too injured to hold their own weight before the pod closes over. Shiro and Kolivan tilt the stretcher upright, leaning Keith against the stand and easing the stretcher out from behind him. They step back, Coran hits a button and the blue of the pod comes down over Keith.

After what just happened, everyone waits around to hear the scan report the pod takes prior to finalising the configuration of duration and healing requirements. The stand behind Keith lowers as the cyropod’s gravity takes the weight off his feet. Scan complete.

Coran swears. “Quiznak!”

He hastily cancels the configuration and the pod whooshes open. Keith collapses in Coran’s arms, a dead weight. Krolia automatically takes a step towards him, but Kolivan’s already there. He bends his knees to collect Keith from the shorter Coran, easily swooping the boy up in his arms. Keith’s head tilts back over Kolivan’s arm.

“Coran, what is it?” Allura approaches the pod that was just cancelled. “Is there a malfunction?”

He stares at Allura with wide eyes. “He’s had excessive consumption of Yamalln herb.”

“ _What?_ Are you sure?”

Coran shows the Princess the report from the scan. Krolia peers over her shoulder, but the report is written in Altean scribe.

Allura frowns, her hands slamming down on her hips. “What in the universe? That herb disappeared along with the rest of Altea. How did the witch get her hands on…oh, of course. She’s Altean!”

Kolivan lies Keith back down on the examination table. Everyone is waiting for Allura to elaborate but she doesn’t seem to be able to read the atmosphere in the room. Hunk glances left and right.

“Uh, Allura,” the Yellow paladin says. “What is this Ya..yah-mahl…herb thing?”

The Princess turns away from Coran. Her eyes fall on Keith lying unconscious on the table, her expression somewhat fretful. “Yamalln herb was a special plant that grew on sub-alpine slopes in the Yamalln region of Altea. Travellers used to take it in a tea before going up to the mountain villages. It helped their bodies acclimatise to the colder temperatures and higher altitudes.”

“It’s certainly not what I would call a pleasant tea to drink,” Coran says, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Sets your mouth on fire like those hot chilli peppers you lot were telling me about! Makes you feel both hot and cold all at once.”

Pidge tilts her head, an eyebrow raised. “Why would Haggar give Keith that? Was she planning on taking him to some planet with mountains or something?”

Allura’s gaze is fire and ice. “To make him suffer, and then to kill him.”

There’s a moment where everyone stills. Pidge makes a point of checking Keith’s pulse to make sure he’s avoiding that outcome. She seems satisfied. All of a sudden her face lights up in epiphany, but it’s a dark one.

“That’s why we can’t use the pod. Right?” The Green Paladin looks to Coran for confirmation. “He’ll acclimatise to the conditions of the pod, and then he won’t survive coming back out because he’s had too much of that Yamalln herb.”

Coran grimaces. “That’s exactly right, Number Five.”

Lance lets out a shout of frustration, flinging his arms in the air in exasperation. “So what do we do? Just sit around and wait for him to die?”

“There’s got to be an antidote,” Shiro counters. “Right, Coran?”

The Altean man tugs on his moustache, staring at the floor thoughtfully. “There used to be another plant the travellers used on their descent. It would reverse the acclimatising effects of Yamalln herb that they’d drink prior to coming down from the mountain villages. Perhaps if we could concuct a substitute for that…”

Hunk’s eyes flash. “The Olkari gave us that assortment of herbs when we were there a couple of days ago, right? There might be something in there we could use.”

Coran nods. “We could give it a shot.”

With a glance at Keith, the two men leave the room. Pidge, who has been gently stroking Keith’s hair in an act of comfort, turns slightly to look at Shiro expectantly as though awaiting instruction.

The Black paladin lets out a breath. “Alright. While they’re doing that, let’s do our own bit. We can start by getting him out of that suit and tending to whatever wounds he has that need to attending to.”

As Shiro starts on unwinding the bandaging Krolia temporarily wrapped around the blast wound on Keith’s arm, Pidge jumps down from the examination table. Lance sidles over to assist Shiro.

“Allura, where do you keep the changes of clothes for patients?” Pidge asks.

The Princess frowns. “Won’t a cyrosuit do?”

Pidge shakes her head. “Too tight. Need something loose and baggy.”

“Oh, alright. Follow me.”

Kolivan and Krolia stay behind with Lance and Shiro a while, watching quietly from side. Shiro finds a pair of scissors and cuts away the material surrounding the blast wound. He then rolls Keith onto his side, extending Keith’s good arm out as a support for his head. Lance starts unzipping the uniform from the back. Once they have Keith out of the Blade of Marmora uniform and undershorts beneath, Shiro and Lance start cleaning the sweat and blood off him. Lance finds a box of sterile gauze pads and fresh bandages in one of the wall cupboards. He hands it to Shiro, who cleans the wound and replaces the dressing.

While they’re busy with wrapping Keith’s arm, the voices of Pidge and Allura float down the hallway and through the door. Krolia spies the blanket Kolivan carried Keith in during the extraction and quickly covers her son’s exposed body. She mentally thanks Lance for thinking of bringing it in with him when leaving the Red Lion.

Pidge and Allura stride in, the Princess carrying an armful of folded clothes.

“We found some clothes,” Pidge declares. She holds a pair of loose fitting grey pants up in the air. “Will these do?”

Krolia narrows her eyes at the drawn waistband. “Do you have any that aren’t so restricting on the waist?”

Allura stares at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Peeling back the blanket as far as Keith’s hips, Krolia lets them see the band of bright red burnt across Keith’s waist. Pidge’s eyes widen.

“Electrocution,” Lance supplies.

Pidge swears, profanity Krolia hasn’t heard since her time on Earth. She tosses the pants in her hands onto the floor and pulls out a pair from the pile in Allura’s arms that better fits Krolia’s description. Allura’s eyes travel up Keith’s body, her brow creasing as she sees the same kind of burns curled around his wrists.

“I’ll get some cooling towels,” the Princess says. She marches out of the room and Pidge chases after her, snatching up the dropped pants from the floor on her way out.

“Krolia.”

Kolivan is looking at her. He gestures to the doorway. He and Krolia walk out through the corridor, take a few turns down the hallway to give them privacy before Kolivan stops.

“I will be returning to Base shortly,” he says. “However, I want you to stay behind with Keith. When he’s recovered, bring him back with you. Ask Lance to escort you back to headquarters – the Red Lion can withstand the journey in.”

Krolia nods. “Understood.”

“Inform me when you are ready to depart. I will ensure there are a couple of Blades to meet you on your arrival.”

“Have there been changes to arrival protocol? I thought Blades did not require escorts.”

“It is not regarding protocol.” The corner of Kolivan’s mouth upturns in a small smile. “Two Blades, Ilun and Vrek, were recently assigned to a mission with Keith to infiltrate the Kral Zera. They are…quite eager to see him.”

A twinge of jealousy stabs her. Her fellow Blades, the paladins of Voltron…they must know a whole lot more about Keith than she does, and he’s her own son. All she has to go off is who he was as an infant, the kind of character his father was and the brief acquaintance they’d made before Keith was stolen from right in front of her. Since they’ve had to work closely as a team, the paladins most likely know all the things that make him tick, are familiar with the choreography of his swordsmanship…

Kolivan raises an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?”

“I just want to thank you for retrieving Keith,” Krolia murmurs.

At that, the Blade leader’s face falls. He averts his eyes and stares off into the distance. Krolia’s seen that expression before. Kolivan won’t admit it out loud, but the words are written clear on his face: _I could’ve done better to prevent this from happening._ Krolia doesn’t bring it up, allowing the Blade leader his dignity.

Kolivan casts a long glance in the direction of the medical bay. He grunts. “He’s one brave kid.”

They wander back to the medical bay compartment, only to find the room empty. Keith’s damaged Blade uniform lies crumpled on the examination table. A voice behind them startles them out of their confusion.

“Keith’s mum!” Hunk smiles at her warmly. He points to the corridor to the right. “This way. We passed Shiro on the way from the kitchen. He said they’ve taken Keith across to a recovery room.”

Coran walks ahead of Hunk carrying a glass of tea-like liquid. _Ah, they managed to make some medicine._ Krolia expects Hunk to follow him down the corridor but he instead stops in front of her, two steaming cups of what smells like chicory in his hands.

“Uh, I thought you two might like a hot drink,” he says. “You know, after everything.”

Krolia blinks. At her hesitation, Hunk begins to stammer an apology.

“I-if you don’t want it, that’s fine. Totally fine –”

“No,” Krolia interrupts, taking the cup in both hands. Kolivan accepts his portion likewise. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

The recovery room is more spacious than the compartment in the medical bay and the lights less harsh. Keith lies on the single bed which takes up most of the room, blankets layered over him. He’s shirtless, a precaution to avoid upsetting the healing of his wounded right arm. With his shorter height and the bed made to account for the taller Alteans or Galra patients in the past, he at least isn’t crammed for space. It does, however, make him look smaller and more vulnerable than he did draped over Kolivan’s broad back. Keith’s arms lie atop the blankets at his sides. Pidge has folded cooling towels around his wrists. Judging by the bulk at his middle and feet, she’s done the same for the burns on his torso and ankles, too.

Both Lance and Pidge have taken off their armour, now just in their flight suits and boots. Pidge absentmindedly massages Keith’s left hand, rubbing her thumb in circles across the back of his hand, across his knuckles and up and down his fingers. She’s watching Lance, who is gently combing his fingers through Keith’s dark hair. A collection of bottles sit on a chair pulled up beside Pidge. Lance reaches over to pump some more liquid onto his hands from one of them.

“This is great untangling stuff, Coran!” Lance grins, spreading it over both hands before working it into Keith’s hair. “I need to get some of this for myself.”

Pidge frowns. “You don’t even need it, Lance. Unless you’re planning on growing a mullet like Keith, that is.”

Hunk watches Lance in amazement. “Dude, are you a hairdresser or something? You look pretty skilled.”

“A brother and an uncle,” he corrects. At the mention of his family, his face brightens. “It’s what happens when you have a sister and a niece, I guess.”

Krolia observes the scene before her from the shadows of the corridor. When Lance gathers Keith’s hair to free the knots snagging the tips of his hair, a fizzle of anger stirs in her gut – she hadn’t noticed the purple bruise high on his temple. Coran leans into her view, then, and Lance raises Keith’s head a little so that the Altean man can slip the medicine into Keith’s mouth. He has to lightly touch Keith’s inflamed throat to encourage him to swallow. With every spoonful of the medicine he takes, his swallowing seems to get less and less difficult. The anger in Krolia’s belly cools.

She takes a sip of Hunk’s chicory. Pidge making the effort to reassure Keith he’s safe. Lance washing his hair, having propped Keith’s head and shoulders up on a couple of towels to stop his wet hair from soaking the sheets beneath his head. Hunk and Coran’s compassion. They tend to her son so carefully and tenderly that it reignites the spark of jealousy in her. Or maybe it’s guilt. Perhaps both.

Krolia’s eyes grow hot. She catches Kolivan watching her in his peripheral and mutters fiercely, “I’m not going to cry.”

Allura rushes past her then, a bunch of small, lightly scented flowers in her hands. She beams at the others. “Look what I found in the old stores! Arus lavender! My mother used to put these in a vase in my bedroom when I was sick. I expect they should ease Keith’s fever aches considerably.”

Krolia fixes her eyes on her son. So vulnerable. So unlike the overly curious two year old she had to tear herself away from and so different from the Blade with the fire in his eyes who was willing to sacrifice himself for her. He didn’t – still doesn’t – even know who she is to him…who he is to her. She turns away abruptly and stalks down the corridor, out into the adjoining hallway.

She’s angry at herself. She’s his mother and she’s not the one taking care of him. There’s nothing extra she can do for him right at this particular moment but she feels like she should be doing at least _something._ It’s because of her he got in this situation. It’s because of her he nearly died. Keith _did_ die. And it wasn’t her who saved him.

Krolia downs the rest of the chicory. Hot tears slip down her face. Kolivan’s large hand comes down on her shoulder. She shakes her head, tries to shake him off. He keeps his hand firmly in place.

“I said I wouldn’t cry!” she hisses.

Kolivan doesn’t say anything but Krolia hears the low murmuring in his throat. A soft, kind growl. Krolia’s chest tightens at the gentle timbre of it.

There’s no keeping the tears in now.


	7. Returning pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has turned out to be longer than I thought it would be. Rather than rushing it, or making everyone wait a whole week for a really long finale chapter, I've split it into two parts.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who's read this and left comments and kudos!! Thank you so much!  
> Here's Part 1 of Chapter 7: Returning :)

It’s their voices that draw him into consciousness. He’s reluctant at first, wary of what awaits him on the other side. But then the unmistakeable presence of Red washes over him and he knows that he’s safe.

“…research. Says it’s some kind of mysterious planet.”

“Does Lotor even know…?”

“…’Lura seems pretty excited. I guess that’s a good thing.”

Keith concentrates on the voices. He’s familiar with the layered tones of each of them, something that stirs a warmth in his heart. It’s…Pidge, and…Lance…and Hunk. The Garrison trio. He listens to them, honing in the light conversation and pushing aside the darkness that blurs his mind.

“..eith?”

“Hey, buddy. You with us?”

Keith forces his eyes open. Everything’s fuzzy. He groans, screws his eyes shut and tries again. The first thing he sees is a mess of tussock coloured hair and glasses reflecting light in his face.

Pidge breaks into a wide smile. “Hey, Keith. Welcome back!”

Leaning against the wall behind her is Lance. He stands up straight, shoves his hands in his pockets and peers around Pidge. “Took you long enough, Mullet. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you?”

Keith stares at them, dazed. They’re in their casual wear. He’s lying in a bed in a room surrounding him with metallic blue-grey walls. A couple of heavy blankets are pulled to his shoulders, warm and the weight of them comforting. It takes him a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he realises where he is.

He tries to speak but his voice is stuck in his throat. He coughs a little before asking, “’is the Castle?”

Lance nods. “Yep. Back home, safe and sound. Anyone wants to hurt you, they’ll have to go through us.”

Keith senses a hidden meaning to those words, something he’s not quite grasping. “What’re you talk’ng abou’?”

His words are thick and slow. It’s then that Keith realises he’s sick with a fever. His mouth feels dry and his cheeks flushed, not to mention the headache. He doesn’t even remember getting this sick.

Hunk, who comes into view behind Lance, chuckles. “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. You just gave us a bit of a scare yesterday, is all. Nothing major, though. Eh, Pidge?”

Pidge frowns, something dark flashing over her face. She swivels her head around to glower at Hunk. “Yeah,” she says dryly. “Nothing major at all.”

While he’s trying to decipher what Pidge’s expression actually means, Keith is distracted by a figure stretched out a sofa at the end of the bed. Someone dressed in Blade uniform appears to be sleeping, though he can’t quite see their face…oh, wait. Memory pings. He recognises that wild purple-black-pink hair.

…Krolia?

He doesn’t have time to process his confusion as footsteps hurry in from the hallway.

“Ah, Keith!” Allura rushes in and comes up the other side of the room. “You’re awake!”

Everyone’s got their eyes on him. Coran comes in, too, and then Shiro in his armour. Self-conscious, Keith manages a small smile but he’s too emotionally drained to make it last. He’s still raw from the torment of when he was last awake, but that’s a memory he’s trying his best to avoid thinking about. He suppresses it and shoves it back down into the deep dark hole it came out of.

Shiro sidles past Hunk and Lance to stand behind Pidge. “How’re you feeling?”

Keith grunts. “No’ so good, to be honest.”

“You’re still working the Yamalln herb out of your system,” Allura explains. “Hopefully the fever will be gone in the next quintant or two.”

The _what_ -herb, now?

“In the meantime, we’ve made something for you that should help ease your discomfort,” Coran says brightly, ducking in between him and Allura. He presents something to Keith in his hands.

It’s a cup. Of liquid.

Panic seizes him. His throat constricts and his eyes stretch wide in terror.

“No,” Keith whispers. “No…no more…”

Coran frowns. “Now, now, young Keith. You need to have- “

“No, no, no…”

Keith panics. He pulls himself up abruptly, his arm hurting, frantic. His head pounds, his pulse accelerates. His breathing grows rapid. He needs to run. Get out of the bed. Away from these people.

A hand presses down on Keith’s left shoulder. “Keith,” Shiro says sternly. “You need to take the antido- ”

Keith flinches at the touch. When he tries pull away from Shiro, a pair of strong hands come down on him, one on his right shoulder and the other planted firmly in the centre of his chest. Allura presses him back down.

“Get off me,” Keith pleads.

“Hey,” Shiro says. “ _Calm down_.”

Keith struggles, tries to wrestle himself free but Allura and Shiro only lean their weight further into their hold on him. Adrenaline spikes through his veins. He lets out a whimper. They press down harder.

“Let me go,” he whispers hoarsely. They don’t listen to him, so he shouts. “Get off me!”

Twisting and turning, Keith desperately tries to escape. But he’s weak and they’re strong and they’re not letting him up. He kicks at the blankets, shouts at them, throws a fist at them. Shiro quickly slams a hand down over his wrist. Keith shrieks. He lashes out at Allura. The Princess switches her grip, pinning him down with her forearm and clamping her free hand around his other wrist. Keith freaks.

“Someone grab his legs!” Shiro commands.

When he says it like that, it’s an automatic response for the others to obey. But Pidge backs away instead. She bumps into Lance, who’s staring at Keith in horror. Neither of them move.

Hunk’s giant hands come down on Keith’s ankles, but his grip isn’t strong enough. “Coran!”

As soon as Coran’s fingers wrap around his other leg, Keith’s panic skyrockets. He gasps for air, blood hot. He screeches at them. Yells. Their grips harden. Keith thrashes harder, wilder. His voice breaks an octave.

“G-guys,” Lance says hoarsely. “I really don’t think you should…”

No one listens. Keith’s breaths are harsh, ghastly. His chest heaves. He fights them, thrashes, _screams_ –

“GET OFF MY SON!”

Krolia’s eyes are wild, the fire in them white-hot. Her top lip quivers at the corner in a snarl.

Everyone freezes. The moment they all hesitate, the pressure holding him down suddenly lifting a little. Keith seizes the chance. He tears himself free, scrambles out of the sheets and hurls himself out of Allura’s reach. Shoving Shiro hard to the side, he half-trips, half-falls out of the blankets. When his feet touch the floor his knees buckle. Keith staggers, finds his balance and drops into his bare-handed defensive stance.

Nobody moves.

Keith breathes hard, too fast. His knees shake. He’s cold. His arm hurts badly. His heartbeat hammers into the side of his head. Eyes flicking sideways, darting back and forth.

“Keith…” Shiro takes a step forward.

Krolia hisses. “Stay away from him!”

Keith stumbles backwards. The wall finds him. He presses himself as far up against it as he can, trying to put as much distance between him and Shiro and Hunk and Allura and Coran and…

Smoothly, Lance slips in front of Shiro. He extends an arm between them and gently pulls Shiro backwards. The Black paladin looks like he’s about to rebuke him but Lance pays him no heed. There’s a cold terror is his eyes, thoroughly mixed with an empathy he seems desperate to convey.

He’s apologising, Keith realises dimly. To me.

Lance pushes Shiro toward the doorway. He bumps into Hunk, who bumps into Coran.

“Out,” Lance says, his voice thin but strangely authoritive.

Allura hesitates. She opens her mouth to protest, but Pidge interrupts her.

Pidge’s tone is cool, almost hauntingly so. “Allura, you too.”

“But the anti – ”

“Allura!” Lance shouts.

The Princess stills at Lance’s raised voice. With a concerned glance in Keith’s direction, she hurries out the door after them. There’s shuffling and hushed whispers and question-halting barks, and then the sounds of footsteps fade down the hallways until they can’t be heard anymore.

Keith slides down the wall and collapses on the floor, hyperventilating. _They’re gone. They’re gone. You’re fine. Just breathe, just…_ He chokes on a whimper. Purple walls flash in and out of his mind. Harsh sneers. The unlocking of the door before it slides open.

He gasps. No. _No!_

“Keith.”

Krolia stands where she is. She doesn’t try to approach him. Keith risks a proper glance at her. Her body language is not aggressive. She’s giving him space, waiting. Patiently. She understands. She saw what was done to him, or at least part of it.

Keith brings his knees up to his chest and hides his face behind them. He uses his arms like a shield over his knees, hiding him a little more. _Breathe. Breathe._ The adrenaline leaves him feeling weak and sick. Krolia says his name again, softly. Keith tucks his head further into the hollow between his arms, knees and chest.

A light hand on his shoulder. Keith’s breath catches. He snaps his head up, staring ice at Krolia who’s crouching before him. The alarm dies in his eyes, however, when he realises her answering stare is not an unkind one. They watch each other intensely for a couple of minutes. Her expression is a bewildering combination of many emotions, some of which are entirely foreign to Keith. Being under her gaze is not unsettling or uncomfortable though, and the tension gradually begins to release from his body.

Krolia offers him a hand to get back into the covers. Despite the goosebumps on his skin and his shivering, Keith doesn’t respond for a minute. After evaluating her a minute longer, he decides he can trust her. Stiffly, he unfurls himself and Krolia helps him to his feet. She steadies him with an arm around his shoulders, supporting his back as he climbs back into bed. Keith curls up in a fetal position against the cold, against the trauma. He stares at the wall as Krolia pulls the covers over him.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Krolia murmurs. Her voice is surprising soothing, even with its stony and commanding base tone she’s probably so used to speaking in. “You’re safe.”

“I don’t feel good,” Keith whispers. Even though he’s back in the warmth of the blankets, the adrenaline and his fever keep him shaking long after the cold leaves him.

“You’ve still got a bad fever,” Krolia informs him. “The medicine that Coran brought in will help.”

Keith stiffens, stricken. It takes him a while to quell the rising panic. He tries not to look at the faint red bands burnt across the insides of his wrists. Tries not to think too hard about anything.

 Eventually he asks quietly, “What’s in it?”

Krolia tells him it’s a mix of Olkarion herbs. Hunk was the one who made the paste, with Coran’s guidance. Hearing that it was Hunk who prepared the medicine, Keith isn’t so wary of it. Krolia then describes the liquid he was forced to have while he was strapped to the interrogation table, a tea made out of a native Altean alpine herb. She explains the side effects of Yamalln herb and why his body hurt so much after he had it. Once Keith understands he wasn’t technically poisoned, but rather made to drink something which forced his body to acclimatise to conditions he wasn’t actually exposed to, he begins to settle down a little more.

He concentrates on pulling his knowledge of biological science into the picture, hoping it’ll distract him from the bored look on the witch’s face when she…

_Don’t think. Just breathe. Focus on Krolia’s voice._ He does, and it grounds him again.

Keith, on his own terms, yields and decides to take the medicine. He sits up, exposing his shoulders to the cold again. He eyes the cup nervously, as if the liquid’s going to reach out and take a hold of his throat and choke him. With a deep breath in and out, he takes the cup from the bedside table, brings it to his lips and takes the first sip.

It’s sweet. Nothing like the tangy stuff that burned his mouth. Hunk’s medicine reminds Keith of a rooibos tea, with a layer of honey and mineral aftertaste. There’s a slight stringency to it, something he isn’t ungrateful for after how sickly dry his tongue is after that panic attack. It washes away the remnants of his fright, calms him.

While slowly making his way through the cup, unable to drink it all at once, Keith notices his knife on the bench where Krolia was sleeping. Relief floods through him. Krolia notices him looking at it and fetches it for him.

“I suppose I should give this back to you,” she says.

Keith sets the cup back down on the table and takes the knife from Krolia’s hand. The weight of it in his palm is familiar and reassuring. Since he’s always carrying it around on the small of his back, the thought of not having it near him makes him feel utterly defenseless. Sure, he can handle a fist-fight fine, but this isn’t Earth - it’s space, and he’s in the middle of an intergalactic war. Not exactly the place to be without a weapon.

Which begs another question. If his knife was previously Krolia’s, what made her part with it? Keith had absolutely not liked the idea of giving it up when Kolivan demanded he do so. He’d taken the Trials just to prove it was his or at least get some answers surrounding exactly what it meant. In the end, the blade did awake for him. At some time in her life, it must’ve awoken for Krolia, too.

Uncertain, Keith decides to ask her. “How were you able to use it?”

Krolia’s eyes flash. Her expression is unreadable, and all of a sudden she looks a lot younger.

“Because it used to be mine,” she says, closing her eyes a moment. “…before I gave it to your father.”

Keith replays that last word over in his head multiple times. “You knew my Dad? How…?” He frowns, glancing down at the blade in his hands. Realisation hits. His eyes widen in shock. “You…”

Keith stares at her, stunned. Then he blinks, shifts the knife off his lap and places it beside the pillow behind him. He picks up the medicine cup again and forces another mouthful down. He looks down at the tea, then back up at Krolia, down at the tea, up at…

…his mother.

“Well, that explains a few things,” Keith mumbles.  

Silence follows, though it’s not necessarily an awkward one. The two spend the next five minutes evaluating each other, familiarising themselves with each other. He sees it clearly now, himself in her. Her scowl, her glare. The way that she runs. Keith’s pretty sure he remembers seeing her throw the knife at some point, sending it spinning through the air to hit its target – a skill he also learned and grew adept at.

It also explains why Krolia’s here at the Castle instead of back at Base where Kolivan probably is, and why she and Kolivan were so quick to contact Voltron to organise a rescue mission, and why Kolivan agreed to come after him. Every strange thing she’s said makes sense now, those things about promising never to leave him again and then yelling at the others, calling him her son.

_I’ll never leave you again._ She’d said that. Judging by the fact that Krolia hasn’t left his side since she pulled him off that awful table, Keith knows she means every word. Unless circumstances of war tear them apart again, Krolia seems fully intent on keeping that promise.

Keith manages to finish the cup. He starts shivering again, wishing he could pull on a jersey or something. He considers asking for one. The bandaging covering the healing wound on his arm is fairly bulky, though, and it was probably replaced with fresh dressing once or twice while he was out and will need to be changed again in the next day.

_Back under the covers, then,_ he decides. Setting the cup down, Keith snuggles under the blankets and pulls them up over his shoulders as he lies down.

He realises he hasn’t said anything much to Krolia regarding the relevation of her being his mother, nor has she spoken to him since. But he gets the understanding that there’s a mutual acceptance of each other. He trusts her completely, daringly more so than he does the other Blades. It’s as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, not bothered that Krolia’s watching him, that he realises how true that is. Keith rolls onto his good side and closes his eyes.

Krolia sits down behind him and rubs his back gently. At first Keith tenses, not used to being touched by anyone. But the movements are reassuring and comforting, her very presence calming. There’s a lull in his thoughts as the medicine starts working its way through his body. Then he’s asleep, out to it before he even feels it coming.

 

Krolia continues to rub his back after he’s fallen asleep.

Lance comes to check on Keith not long after. His cautious gaze softens when he sees his friend resting. In his arms he carries a number of packages that look like small meals.

“Kolivan sent through a message,” he says. “We just received it. He arrived back at the Blade of Marmora headquarters about an hour ago.”

Krolia nods. “Thank you for informing me.”

“Also, just letting you know, Red and I are all goods giving you and Keith a lift back there when Keith’s feeling up to it.” He glances at his friend’s still form huddled under the blankets. “How is he?”

“Better.” Krolia realises how curt she sounds and tries to soften her voice a little. “I appreciate your help in removing the other paladins earlier.”

Lance nods, swallowing. “I, uh…Red showed me. What Keith went through…or at least, snippets of it.”

“I’m guessing that’s why the cockpit reeked from vomit?”

“Yeah…” Lance drops his gaze in embarrassment. “I just spent the last half an hour cleaning it up.”

The others are wise and stay away. Krolia suspects Lance said something to them. They may not have listened to Keith when he freaked himself out, but they seem to have listened to Lance and respect his advice to give Keith the space he needs to recover.

_Keith has good friends_ , Krolia realises. She suppresses the envy that she’s not one of them. Perhaps not yet, at any rate.

While Lance is there, Krolia takes the opportunity to leave the room to relieve herself. When she returns, he offers to stick around a while, but Krolia abruptly tells him she’s fine. Lance grins at that. He chuckles softy.

“You and Keith are _definitely_ related,” he says, then takes his leave.

Krolia has some of the refreshment juice Lance brought with him. She’s keen on trying what appears to be homemade Earth-style cooking, presumably made by one of the paladins. But she hasn’t the appetite to eat any of it just now. _Later_ , she thinks.

Finishing the juice, Krolia pulls a chair over to Keith’s bedside and leans herself forward, resting her head on her arms. She feels the tug of exhaustion beneath her eyes and lets her eyelids close on her own accord. She hasn’t slept since they rescued Keith, unless the broken forty minute nap she had earlier before her son’s screams startled her awake counts.

She falls asleep with the knowledge that, should anything happen, she’s right here. If Keith needs her, she’s right by his side and she’s not leaving him. She can rest a bit easier this time.

 

Five hours later, Krolia wakes abruptly. She’s confused as to what woke her. The room is still, nothing disturbed. Everything’s quiet. Frowning, she raises her head wearily and…

The bed is empty. The sheets are cold. Keith is gone, and so is the knife.


	8. Returning pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing /that/ strange about Keith with his knife, right? 
> 
> Also, this isn't the end quite yet - I still have an epilogue to write regarding Kolivan.  
> Anyways, enjoy!!

Krolia sprints down the hallways. She’s never been in the Castle before, so she only knows the pathways to the bathroom and the Red Lion’s hangar. She heads for the hangar, hoping Lance might be there, or that she’ll run into _someone_ on her way who might’ve seen Keith.

A day ago, she and Kolivan had rushed him down these very halls. He was already lost to them by that stage. If it hadn’t been for Pidge’s quick action and what appeared to be the Red Lion’s intervention, she wouldn’t be looking for Keith right now. Krolia supposes that’s a good thing, but she can’t shake off the feeling history will repeat itself and she’ll be rushing him back down these hallways to the medical bay again.

Just when she finally reunited with him…

It’s her fault, isn’t it? If Kolivan hadn’t sent Keith to extract her, he wouldn’t have suffered. He wouldn’t still be suffering. What if the damage was worse that it appeared? What if the trauma is too overwhelming for him to live with? What if the memories are so invasive Keith takes it upon himself to get rid of them along with his life. Krolia’s throat burns with bile. She swallows. Runs faster. What if _she’s_ the reason he comes to that resolution? Found out that the mother who left him now wants to be there for him, believes it all to be lies and –

Almost at the Red Lion’s hangar, Krolia notices signage for another bathroom. She ducks in and only just makes it to one of the stalls in time before the vomit rises. She braces her hands on her knees, emptying her stomach of the juice she had a few hours ago. She’s shaking. Only slightly, but Krolia hasn’t shaken like this since…since she said goodbye to her infant son Keith.

No. She isn’t going to lose him now. She’s not saying goodbye a second time. She meant it when said she’d never leave him again. Flushing the mess away and washing her mouth out, Krolia cleans her hands, take a couple of long drinks of water and then takes off running down the halls again.

She finds Lance sitting on the Red Lion’s foot, Pidge standing in front of him. Pidge has a cup of coffee in her hands. Krolia overhears some of their hushed discussion, something about the paladin named Shiro acting weirdly, but they quickly fall silent when they catch sight of Krolia charging through the doorway.

“Have you seen my son?” Krolia asks, louder than her usual tone since she’s literally just stopped running. “Keith, he’s gone.”

Pidge shakes her head, shadows under eyes and exhausted. “We’ve looked everywhere for him. He’s not in any of his usual haunts – not the training room, not the kitchen, not his room…”

Krolia scowls, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Lance has been checking in every two hours,” Pidge explains. “Keith was still there when he first went it, but when he went in the second time around, Keith was nowhere to be seen.”

“And you looked exhausted,” Lance adds. He narrows his eyes at her, concerned. “You still do.”

Krolia doesn’t reply to that. “He has his knife.”

The reactions she gets are not the reactions she expects. Pidge continues sipping her coffee and Lance doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. Krolia wonders if they actually heard and understand what she said. She hadn’t just reverted to traditional Galra speech, had she?

“Well, I mean…that’s not strange for Keith.” Lance glances at Pidge, as though ensuring his thoughts don’t differ from hers.

“Yeah, Keith carrying around his knife is pretty normal,” Pidge says. “He probably feels like he has nothing to protect himself with if he doesn’t have it on hand.”

Krolia forces herself to take a deep breath. They’re right. He’s a Blade. It is normal. She was the same when that knife belonged to her; she wouldn’t go anywhere without it. By the sounds of it, even before Keith became a Blade, carrying the knife around with him was habit. Maybe she’s more tired than she thinks. Her mind’s drifting too much, going a bit wild in the wake of everything that just happened.

The doors to the hangar open and Hunk runs in, panting. “He’s not on the bridge, either!” There’s sweat on his brow, and though he appears to have been running hard, he doesn’t look anyhow fatigued by it. He sees Krolia and smiles. “Oh, hi, Keith’s mum.”

“What did Allura and Coran say?” Pidge asks.

Hunk shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him either.”

Pidge lets out a frustrated grunt and rubs her forehead. “Where on earth – where in this _ship_ – could he be?”

Lance’s frown deepens. He’s got that distant look on his face again, and Krolia wonders if it’s the Red Lion showing him something again. When Lance closes his eyes, Krolia’s stomach dips.

_Something’s happened. The last two times – no, three – Lance connected with the Red Lion, Keith was either being tortured or dying._

Krolia’s anger flares. At herself. _Stupid_. If she’d stayed awake, she could’ve stopped him. Now Keith’s gone and probably hurt himself, and all the while she was indulging in the false security that he was safe, while she _napped_ nonetheless, and – 

All of a sudden the strained expression disappears and is replaced by mirth. He snorts, then starts laughing. Krolia stills, apprehension replaced by confusion.

Pidge stares at Lance incredulously. “What’s so funny?”

Lance slides off Red’s paw, the amusement bright in his eyes. He does the thumbs up and jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Red.

“What?” Pidge asks.

Lance grins. “He’s been with Red the whole time.”

Hunk peers around at the Red Lion’s open mouth, the ramp leading up the cockpit. “You serious? We’ve been freaking out and looking everywhere – I sprinted _all the way_ up to the bridge and back – and Keith’s been in here the entire time?”

Pidge’s eyes are wide. “How did we miss him? We’ve been in here for ages!”

“No, we all hung out in the kitchen for over an hour, remember?” Hunk says. “It was only when Lance said he wanted to go check on Keith that we left.”

“Right…” Realisation dawns on Pidge’s face. “Then you and I stayed a little while longer because I wanted some more coffee and your cookies still had ten minutes left in the oven.”

Lance nods. “Plenty of time for a ninja like Keith to sneak over here, even if he isn’t feeling his best. Anyways, follow me,” he says, then gestures with a finger to his lips and adds, “quietly.”

Krolia follows the three of them up the ramp. There’s a soft explanation from Pidge when the cockpit doors slide open. Krolia rounds the corner and –

There is Keith, curled up asleep on the floor beside the pilot’s seat. It’s a good thing Lance gave that spot a thorough clean.

He’s changed into his casual clothes. Krolia is astonished. That’s the very red and white jacket his father gave her to wear when she was on Earth. The sleeve of the jacket is a little bulky with the bandaging wrapped around his arm underneath. Keith holds the knife close to his chest, his fingers curled loosely around the hilt.

Krolia notices the fingerless gloves he’s also slipped over his hands. She narrows her eyes. They almost cover the burns, but not quite. The black fabric provides a greater contrast to his pale skin than the pinkish-red of the burns, so in that sense they’re less prominent. The white cuff of his sleeves are pulled as far down the length of his arm as they go. In his sleep, however, the sleeve has revealed the very marks he seems desperate to hide from himself, the marks he wants to forget until they’ve faded completely.

The four of them take only a few steps into the room before Keith startles awake with a gasp, sensing their presence. The fright on his face is disturbing. He tries to stand up in a hurry, instead hitting his head on the underside of the dash board.

He sinks back down onto his knees. “Ow….”

“Woah. It’s okay, Keith,” Hunk says, hands outstretched. “It’s just us.”

Apprehension is written all over Keith’s face. He hastily tries to hide it as the three paladins crouch down in front of him. Krolia follows suit and crouches down beside him.

“What is it?” Keith mumbles, visibly trying to regain composure. He rubs his eyes. “Am I not supposed to be in here?”

Lance frowns. “What? Keith, no. You have every right to be in here. Take Red for a flight, if you like. I’m sure she’d love that. Just…tell someone before you don’t disappear on us again, ‘kay?”

There’s an audible purr that echoes in the room. Keith smiles a little at that.

“We just came to see how you are, man.” Hunk says. “Been looking everywhere for you.”

“Your mum got a fright when she saw you weren’t in bed,” Pidge explains.

Keith glances at Krolia, though he quickly averts his gaze. “Oh, right. Sorry. I… I couldn’t sleep.”

“How’re you feeling?” Lance asks.

“I’m fine.”

He’s not making eye contact with anyone at this point. Krolia realises he must be afraid of how the others might react. Her thoughts flick back to Keith trying to get them to give him space earlier, when the memory of his torture had flickered across his face. _He’s worried they’ll corner him again,_ she realises. _That we’ll corner him and…_

Krolia blinks. Actually, they’re kind of cornering him right now.

Realising this, she scoots across the floor so that she’s sitting against the nearby wall. She leans back, extending her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles. Hopefully Keith will see she has no intention of boxing him in, now that he can see past her to the cockpit doors and has a clear pathway out if he needs it.

In the corner of her eye she sees Keith size up at the space opened before him. He glances at Krolia and takes a deep breath, steadier and slower this time.  

Lance rocks back on his heels, standing up. “Alright, I’m gonna go get you a blanket or something. You know how it gets kind of cold in the hangars sometimes.”

Hunk stands up beside Lance, his eyes alight. “Oh! How about I get you a nice hot cup of coffee or something?”

“Coffee?” Pidge stares at Hunk weirdly. “You trying to deprive him of any sleep he can get?”

 “Coffee makes him fall asleep. Eh, Keith?” Hunk smiles.       

Keith’s face grows red. He scowls and ducks his head.

Pidge swivels her head around like an owl, staring at Keith with an eyebrow raised. “Wow. I guess that explains why the coffee always seemed a bit lower in the tin when I got to it in the mornings.”

“I’ll bring you something to eat, too,” Hunk says. “You must be starving.”

Keith shrugs. He doesn’t object, however, and so the boys take it as a ‘yes’. Lance and Hunk leave the Lion, Pidge getting up to follow them. She downs the rest of her coffee.

“I’ll leave you two to some bonding time,” she says, turning to leave.

Krolia thinks a moment. “Wait, uh…Pidge?”

The Green paladin turns back around. She sticks a hand in the pocket of her shorts, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? Something I can get you?”

“Some fresh dressing, perhaps? And a cloth, too. I want to check on Keith’s wound.”

Krolia glances at her son, hoping the idea of it won’t trigger another panic attack for him. More stress is the least he needs. Keith, however, doesn’t seem fazed.

“Sure thing,” Pidge says, and heads out of the cockpit to fetch the things she requested.

Red’s cockpit is filled with a quiet lull. Krolia thinks she hears a low humming reverberating from the walls around them, as if the Lion is purring. Keith shifts uncomfortably on his knees.

“I, uh… I’m sorry I failed the mission,” Keith whispers.

Krolia frowns. “What are you apologising for?”

“I screwed everything up. I couldn’t even get you out of the base before Trugg came. Then I got captured and made you guys worry and come after me, and…”

“You know as much as I do that the situation back there was a dead end anyway.”

“I’m just…I’m sorry.”

Krolia realises there’s little else she can do but accept it. He was charged with seeing to it that she was extracted and the superweapon destroyed. Because of the tight situation Trugg put them in, he accomplished neither. Keith’s apology isn’t out of place, but considering the weight of the shame Krolia feels for failing to prevent his capture and suffering…it’s _her_ who should be apologising, really. If she’d thought of looking over her shoulder before she charged into her turn of the fight, if only to check that Keith was okay after being thrown so hard at the wall…

“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?” she asks quietly. “Because you keep thinking about what went wrong?”

Keith shakes his head a little. Krolia considers his expression, the line of tension in his shoulders.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Krolia asks softly.

“No. Not…not exactly.” Keith stares at a random spot on the floor. “It’s just…I woke up, and I tried to get back to sleep, but…” His face screws up. He inhales sharply. The breath he releases is a shuddering one. “I-I keep _seeing her_ , every time I close my eyes…and, I just…”

Krolia watches him carefully. She holds an arm out in his direction. Keith raises his head then. His eyes are wide and wary, but Krolia can see the tug of longing in them. When he doesn’t move, she realises that although he wants to take up the offer, he’s probably too embarrassed to do so at the same time.

“Come on,” Krolia urges.

Keith gives in. He crawls stiffly across the floor to her, spins his legs out from under himself and shuffles backwards until he’s leaning against the wall beside Krolia. She gently lowers her arm around his shoulders. Keith pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. Krolia gives his shoulder a light tug towards her and pulls him in closer.

In a matter of moments, his shoulders begin to shake. Keith hides his face in his arms. Krolia tilts her head against his, his ruffled black hair soft and wiry on her cheek. In the faint red light of the Red Lion’s cabin, she can make out the sheen of rusty lilac at the roots of his hair. Krolia knows it’s not just an effect of the lighting. She rubs her hand over his shoulder and upper arm, thankfully not the wounded one, and joins Red in her humming.

When the three paladins – Keith’s friends – return, he doesn’t look up. Instead, he only stiffens and hugs himself tighter. Pidge sets down the medical items Krolia requested behind the pilot’s seat, as does Hunk with the cup of steaming coffee he’s brought in. A hint of amusement tugs at Krolia’s lips when she sees the Green paladin eyeing up the coffee, clear self-rebuke in her eyes. Lance deposits a collection of freshly made sandwiches down beside the coffee, then takes the blanket from Hunk and hands it to Krolia. The three apparently can’t resist smiling at the two of them sitting on the floor together, and making a quick exit is all they can do before they start crying.

“Lance,” Pidge whispers as they walk out of the cockpit. “You sure you cleaned this place?”

Hunk’s voice wavers. “Yeah, man. There’s a _ton_ of space dust in there. You should really…you know, do some dusting…”

The smile which had crept up on Krolia’s face slowly fades. Her chest is so warm. She hasn’t felt this way since Earth. Her family time with Keith and his father had been bittersweet. She’d always known that coming back to space at some point was inevitable. She’d just hoped she could’ve stayed a little longer, enough for her son to understand that she loved him and didn’t want to leave him in the slightest. Long enough to ensure he knew that he hadn’t been abandoned. Long enough for him to know he actually had a mother and remember who she was.

She rouses Keith and gestures for him to take his jacket off. He sniffs, wiping a gloved hand over his eyes. While he does that, Krolia reaches for the fresh roll of bandaging cloth and gauze pad that Pidge brought in. She grabs the cloth as well, just in case the wound’s messy.

The sleeves of Keith’s t-shirt aren’t very long, and so Krolia’s able to remove the dressing from Keith’s arm without him needing to take his shirt off too. He seems relieved when she doesn’t ask him to. Krolia puts the used bandaging aside, keeping a hand over the gauze pad. Taking the cloth in her other hand, she carefully peels back the gauze pad. The tangy metallic taste of blood hits her as soon as she peels it away. The gauze pad is stained with a decent sized blotch of crimson and diluted yellow, and the wound doesn’t appear to have healed over much since the dressing was last replaced, but there’s no sign of infection anymore.

“It’s starting to look good,” Krolia says, more for Keith’s reassurance than her own need to say it out loud.

Keith peers at the side of his arm as Krolia discards the old dressing. He shows no obvious signs of relief, but he relaxes a bit more upon hearing those words. To him it means more than just less pain – his work with the Blades is at stake here. There’s no way Kolivan’s letting him out on missions if his arm’s causing him problems. Even if the wound didn’t get better in a hurry, Krolia wouldn’t be surprised if Keith was determined to go out into the fray anyway. She’s seen the fire in his eyes, the stubbornness, and she knows where he gets it from: both his parents.

While Krolia dresses the wound afresh, Keith nibbles on a leaf-packed sandwich the paladins came in with. He gets half way through it and then seems to lose appetite, for he rewraps it and slides it back across the floor to the pile of stuff behind the pilot’s chair. Once Krolia’s finished with the bandaging, Keith reaches out and takes the hot coffee in his hands. The coffee is gone within the next minute.

“Um… you can go, if you like,” Keith says quietly. His eyes are half-closed already. He sets down the cup and yawns.

Krolia examines him carefully. “Do you _want_ me to go? Or would you rather I stay?”

Keith suddenly looks very young. His eyes flick away from her and then back. A small voice like a child’s whispers back hoarsely, “Stay.”

With a small smile, Krolia shuffles back to leaning against the wall. Keith grabs his jacket, puts it on and reclaims his spot sitting beside her.

Hunk’s right – coffee does make him sleepy. His eyes drift closed and his head drops onto her shoulder. Startled, Keith shifts himself back upright only for the exact same thing to happen a couple of minutes later. Krolia scoops Keith’s shoulders in her arm and draws him gently down so that he’s lying down, his head in her lap. He lets out a breath and shudders, closing his eyes in pure relief. Krolia picks up the blanket and lays it out over him.

“Thanks, Kr-…Mum,” he murmurs.

Krolia strokes Keith’s hair. Her son is asleep within seconds.


	9. Unspoken Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!! Thank you soooo much to everyone who's read this and encouraged me with kudos and comments! I've thoroughly enjoyed writing this story, something that began as a silly musing of mine and morphed into the thrilling, roller-coaster ride of emotions this story became. Thanks so much for reading all the way - I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

When Keith wakes, he’s no longer groggy with fever. Still exhausted and not quite back to his usual state of alertness, but not as hot and flustered.

It had been a mission in itself stumbling down the halls to his old room yesterday, self-conscious with a lack of shirt and sick. He’d felt a bit better once he was in his own clothes again, but that was probably due to the familiarity of them than anything. The walk from his room to his Lion - Lance’s Lion – had been dizzying and trippy to say the least.

 _You’re still my paladin,_ interrupts Red. Her words stab Keith in the heart. She says them again, louder this time to make sure he understood her properly. _You’re still my paladin._

Keith grunts, at a loss for words. What he feels when he hears those words is…complex. Confusing. Heart-warming. Bittersweet. Regretful.

He rubs a hand on his forehead. The burns on his wrists have faded a bit more, but they’re still noticeable close up. Images flash through his mind. The druid raises his hand over the panel and the bands light up a split-second before –

A surge of nausea churns in his stomach. It’s quickly quelled by Red’s presence.

_You’re not in danger any longer. You are safe._

Keith knows that. He knows he’s not _there_ anymore. And though he doesn’t purposefully recall the memories, he can’t forget them either. It’s too recent. He’s too raw.

_You are not alone._

He knows that, too. Krolia, who is still slumped asleep against the wall, is honest when she says she’ll never leave him again. She’s proved that. He knows that the other paladins will always be there for him. They showed him as much when they trusted him as their leader. However, there’s an ever present dread in his heart, warning him that there is always the possibility that the truth of these things, in time, may unravel themselves. Keith’s been rejected too many times to trust anyone a hundred percent but himself.

Though he hates to admit it and most likely never will, Keith knows he no longer trusts Shiro like he used to. He’s bothered by that. It actually _hurts_. Shiro – the guy who never gave up on him and would always take time to listen to him – he’s not the same anymore. It’s probably just the PTSD, Keith tells himself. That plus the war, the stress of leading Voltron….

But there’s a twinge in his belly warning him that something else is the matter with Shiro. It must’ve been while he was unconscious, but Keith distinctly remembers _someone_ voicing their concern over Shiro. Maybe it was Pidge, or Lance…

That’s not his concern right now, he decides. _I’m returning to the Blade, not Voltron. I’m sure whatever’s wrong with Shiro will sort itself out on its own terms._

“Keith.”

Keith twists around as he’s sitting. Krolia’s awake. There’s no trace of sleep in her fierce gaze and Keith almost feels ashamed that he’s not as sharp as he should be, sick or not.

“Are you feeling better?”

Keith nods. His chest is filled with a strange warmth. Red purrs.

Keith can’t take his eyes off her. His mother, this beautiful Galra woman sitting in the Red Lion with him. This incredible Blade whose quick actions meant that his torment lasted no longer than a day. It could’ve been much worse; he knows he wouldn’t have lasted much longer.

“I’m okay,” he says. “A thousand times better than yesterday, though.”

Krolia nods. “I’m pleased to hear that.” She narrows her eyes then, but not in a scrutinising way. “Your eyes are clearer. Has the fever left you already?”

Double-checking for himself, Keith presses a hand to his cheek, then his forehead, then the back of his neck. He’s a little astonished. His skin’s not that hot at all, almost back to normal temperature.

“Actually, yeah. But I thought Allura say something about the fever lasting three days?”

“The Red Lion must have accelerated the healing process for you,” Krolia murmurs, an indescribable awe softening out her features.

An answering purr rumbles through the walls of the cockpit. Keith feels it reverberate through his bones, warm in his bloodstream. It cleanses his mind, overwhelms the shadows of trauma lurking at the fringes of his thoughts.

Keith instinctively takes a deep breath. Peace washes over him as he breathes out. He smiles softly. “Thanks, Red.”

“By no means do I wish to rush your recovery,” Krolia says, getting to her feet. “But as soon as you’re ready, we ought to be returning to headquarters. Kolivan’s orders.”

Keith grabs a hold of the pilot’s seat to support his weight as he stands up. He doesn’t trust his legs entirely, not after how wobbly they were yesterday. The room doesn’t spin anymore, though. Keith lets go of the seat, relieved.

“I’m ready. Do we leave immediately?”

Krolia frowns. “We must return when possible, yes. But it is imperative that you are recovered enough for the flight over.”

“I’m fine,” Keith says, all too quickly falling into his defensive, cover-up talk. “Let’s go, now.”

“Are you inferring that you want to leave ‘right now’?” Krolia raises an eyebrow. She watches him closely. “What of your friends? Will you not say goodbye to them?”

“I’d rather not, actually,” Keith says, averting his eyes. “I, uh…I just want to be out of here, as soon as possible.”

His mother considers the meaning of his words quietly. “Alright. I understand. Return with me to the med bay, first. I brought you a spare Blade uniform – change into that before we leave. I will then find Lance, and ensure Kolivan is notified of our departure.”

They gather the uneaten sandwiches, the coffee cup, the blanket and the spare gauze pad and cloth. After carrying the items to the med bay and dumping them on the bed Keith had been all too keen to escape from, Krolia hands him the Blade uniform. She heads out to hunt down Lance, leaving Keith to change.

Keith returns to his room where he trades his casual Earth clothes for his new Blade uniform. He’s expecting it to be a size too small or a couple of sizes too big, but it fits perfectly, even with the extra bulk of the bandaging around his arm. Krolia must’ve asked about his size before grabbing a suit from the rack of spares. He dons the armour, pulls the hood up and checks that the mask is functioning. It is.

He lowers the mask again, but keeps the hood up. It’s not much to hide behind, but it always gives him an extra sense of protection when walking around people he’s cautious of. Not that he should be wary of his friends. Just after that incident, where they all held him down…it left him a little shaken up.

Keith slinks back down the halls. Fortunately, he avoids crossing paths with anyone on the way, Keith finds that Lance is there waiting, already changed into his paladin gear. His face lights up when he sees Keith.

“You’re looking better,” he says.

Keith shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

There’s something dark hiding behind Lance’s smile, a memory of something horrifying.

 _Did I look that awful?_ Keith wonders. _I sure didn’t feel that great, but I didn’t look_ that _bad, did I?_

Apparently, judging by Lance’s expression, yes – he did. And Lance looks kind of angry that Keith doesn’t realise it.

“You realise,” Lance says, crossing his arms, “that you almost died?” The smile vanishes from his face. “Correction, you _did_ die. So don’t give me that, ‘oh, it’s nothing, I’m fine,’ look.”

Keith tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “Died?”

“Yes, died. You stopped breathing. Had no pulse, either. For ten minutes.”

Keith pales. He looks down at the ground, feeling the impact of Lance’s words. “I didn’t know,” he says quietly. He risks a glance at his friend’s face. “I, uh…thank you. For saving me.”

With a sigh, Lance unfolds his arms. “It wasn’t me. It was Pidge who saved your life, Mullet.”

“Pidge?” Keith tries to imagine her tapping some magical healing sequence into her laptop. “…how?”

“How do you think, Mullet?” At Keith’s blank expression, Lance elaborates. “She kept your heart beating and your lungs filled with air. CPR, in other words. You remember CPR from first aid training?”

Keith’s whole face burns red. Sure, it was first aid and whatever, but he’s never…and Pidge, she…

Krolia’s timing is en pointe. “HQ’s been notified.” Her footsteps are muffled by the soundless step of a practised Blade operative. She stops, forming a triangle between the three of them. She leans over, peering at Keith and glances at Lance. “Uh…why’s his face so red? Keith, is your fever back?”

Keith shakes his head hastily, tugging his hood as far over his flushed face as it will go. He doesn’t know why he’s reacting this way, but he is. It’s embarrassing. Infuriating, the way it’s impossible to hide. He doesn’t even have time to process the weird feeling that’s running through him. It’s already on display for everyone to see…even if that ‘everyone’ is only Lance and Krolia and Red.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. “Let’s go.”

He marches past Lance, not missing the smirk on his face. Keith shoots him a warning glare, but Lance is already leaning over to explain to a perplexed Krolia.

“I was just explaining to him how a certain pigeon saved his life,” Lance says as they follow.

“Lance,” Keith growls over his shoulder.

“Didn’t expect quite a reaction, though. A little suspicious if you ask me.”

Krolia appears to catch on. “Are you implying there’s a double meaning?”

Keith reaches the ramp leading into Red. He whirls around. “Hey!” he protests. “Stop assuming things!”

Lance raises his hands in the air, innocent but for the all-knowing grin on his face. “What? I didn’t say anything. What are you talking about, Keith?”

Krolia’s eyes flash. A hint of a playful smile touches her lips. “Yes, Keith. I must admit, I am curious…”

“Forget it! There’s nothing to it!”

 

Keith flies Red to the Base. He sets his jaw, trying to not to let on to how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed flying Red. Flying Red is second-nature, as instinctive as it is to breathe. He swallows down the homesickness. Not for Earth. For Voltron.

He knows in his gut that his time with the Blades isn’t up yet. If he ever returns to Voltron before this war is over, it’ll be when the timing is right. Right now, it’s not. Keith doesn’t mind. The Blade of Marmora challenges him, keeps his mind off things. Gives him something to focus on.

Behind him, Lance is filling his mother in on Keith’s adventures with Red.

“She’s like Keith’s space mum.” Lance chuckles. “Other space mum, you know.”

Keith begrudgingly lets him since it was Krolia who asked. He hates being talked about, especially when he’s in hearing range. But it’s his mother who’s asking…he has to humour her to some degree.

“I may fly Red now,” Lance is saying, “but Keith’s her true paladin around here. I don’t know if Kolivan told you, but when Keith was taking the Blade of Marmora Trials, he got hurt pretty bad and Red got offended. She started attacking the Base to save him. It was pretty freaky, actually. Shiro was there, but Kolivan wouldn’t let him help. The rest of us were back at the Castle, waiting for communications to open. When Red started attacking, we all knew something bad must’ve happened to Keith. Red was going _berserk_.”

There’s a rumbling growl in the cockpit that seems to say, _I’d do again. I’ll do it again._

Keith is overwhelmed by Red’s presence. His chest if filled with the same warmth as before.

 _When possible, I will protect you_ , says Red.

Keith smiles. _I know you will. You know how much that means to me_.

Red purrs.

 

She doesn’t understand the bond shared between a paladin and their Lion, but Krolia’s growing aware of the Red Lion’s impact in Keith’s life. It occurs to Krolia that although Pidge physically resuscitated him, it was ultimately Red who saved Keith’s life. Red was the one who found him too.

Keith navigates them through the tight path of flight leading up the headquarters. The Red Lion easily flies through the warping gravitational pulls of the two black holes and the blue sun. Once landed, Keith reluctantly gives up the pilot’s seat. He gives the dashboard a pat and steps out of the way.

“All yours, Lance,” he says. “And, uh, thanks for letting me fly Red.”

“No problem!” Lance grins. “Just make sure you don’t leave it so long to fly her again. Red misses you.”

Keith inclines his head, dubious. But there’s a flash of knowledge that crosses his face. The doubt leaves his eyes quickly and he smiles.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I miss her, too.”

Smirking, Lance seizes his chance. “Who? Red, or Pidge?”

Keith bristles, his cheeks turning red. “Oh, shut up, Lance! You know who.”

Lance wiggles an eyebrow. “I do?”

With a frustrated growl, Keith raises his mask. He waves at Lance and exits the Lion ahead of Krolia.

“Lance,” Krolia says when the cockpit doors close. “I want to thank you.”

“For what? Being your personal pilot?” Lance grins.

Krolia ignores the joking. “Your quick response to our hail and willingness to aid Kolivan and I in the extraction is most appreciated. Please thank the others for me.”

The boy’s smile is soft and worn. “Anytime,” he says. “And yep, I’ll do that.”

Krolia nods in farewell, raises her own mask and follows Keith down the ramp.

 

After a half-lecture, half-welcome home ambush from the two Blades Kolivan assigned to meet them, Keith and Krolia stand quietly in the elevator. Ilun and Vrek ride it out with them, but stop on a higher level and leave the two of them by themselves for the remainder of the descent.

The elevator doors open to the training halls. Krolia and Keith follow the corridors of asteroid rock and worked metal to the training observation deck. Apparently this is where Shiro watched the Trials from, and where Kolivan awaits them now. Well, Keith, specifically.

Hesitating out of range of the doors sensors, Keith takes a deep breath. He’s got to face his leader at some point, else Kolivan will take the confrontation to him personally.

_Alright. Here goes._

Kolivan doesn’t turn around when the doors open. “Keith.”

With an encouraging push from Krolia, Keith steps into the room. The door closes behind him and it’s just him and the Blade leader. Keith walks the distance between them nervously. He swallows when he comes to stand beside Kolivan.

Keith waits. For a lecture. A greeting. A raised eyebrow regarding what excuse Keith may have to explain why he failed the mission so badly. But there’s no lecture. Nothing, so he figures Kolivan can’t be too angry. Then again, he’s not exactly saying anything, either.

Does he want Keith to explain himself or something?

Kolivan just stares through the training deck window. When Keith risks a glance at his face, he’s shocked. The Blade leader looks shattered. Keith’s never seen him look so exhausted.

Keith’s thoughts of concern are spoken aloud before he can stop them. “Did something happen?”

There’s no reply. Kolivan lets the silence encompass them. Keith stands stiffly beside him. It becomes too much to bear, this tension. Keith resolves to break it.

“Kolivan?” he asks tentatively.

The Blade leader’s voice is strained. “Your extraction happened.”

Keith averts his eyes, studies his feet. “I…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“I don’t intend to, sir.”

“You worried me.”

“I’m sorry, I…” Keith turns to Kolivan, his mouth agape. “You what?”

“You heard me. I will not repeat myself.”

Kolivan doesn’t move, but he fixes his eyes on Keith in his peripheral vision. Sensing he’s being watched, Keith nervously looks up and meet his gaze. His leader’s face is impossible to read. Stoic as ever, the same steeliness in his eyes. Then Kolivan unclasps his hands from behind his back and lays a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

The Blade leader turns his eyes back to his gazing out the window, “You’re listed as unavailable for the next three days. More if necessary.” Kolivan’s voice hardens as Keith begins to protest. “I am not assigning you to any missions until you are one hundred percent recovered. I understand that there may be some wounds you sustained which will not heal in such a short time. I will still allow you to partake in Blade activities, but I must insist that you allow yourself time to heal from that. If that requires you to decline accepting a mission, inform me. I will excuse you. I will not put you at a risk which exceeds the high risk we already operate at. That goes against protocol. Am I understood?”

Keith narrows his eyes. He’s not good at taking care of himself. But if it’s Kolivan’s order then he doesn’t have a choice but to make sure he at least _tries_.

“Also,” Kolivan continues, “the next mission you’ll be assigned to will be with me.”

Keith nods sullenly. “Understood.”

Kolivan pauses. “You’re not in trouble, Keith.”

“Then what? You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust you to look after yourself.” He turns to Keith, withdrawing his hand. He narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you realise, but that extraction mission I assigned you to – that mission didn’t just become Krolia’s, it also became mine.”

Keith hadn’t thought of it that way. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for being taken. I am sure it was not your intention. Just ensure it does not happen again.” There’s a long pause before Kolivan adds quietly, “I do not want to have to worry like that again.”

Keith can’t hide his smile. He nods.

It’s nice to know Kolivan cares. It’s nice to know he has a mother who cares, and friends he can count on to have his back.

It’s nice to know he’s not alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: (14/08) I've started working on Under the Radar - Part IV! I'll have the first chapter up soon :)  
> Thanks again sooo much to everyone who's read this, left comments and kudos - your support is a huge encouragement to this aspiring novelist and it means so much!!! Thank you!! <3


End file.
